


Hope Still Lives

by Jael_Lyn



Series: GDP [1]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 12:33:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 68,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jael_Lyn/pseuds/Jael_Lyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair is faced with a critical choice. Set in the GDP universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hope Still Lives

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: Sometimes a story doesn't follow the script you intend. This began as a joint effort with Susan Foster, who so graciously shares the universe she created. She suggested the original premise, we agreed, and I went to work on the beginning of the story.
> 
> Problem was, I loved the concept and hated what I'd written. I'd put it away, take it out again, write some more, and I'd still hate it. I was too embarrassed to send it back to Susan. After months of rejecting it on my end, and after some timely suggestions from writers who are a lot better than I am, it seemed to fall into place. To my dismay, I realized the story was essentially finished, and Susan had never seen it. Nearly a year had gone by. I sent it back to Susan, with my apologies. What to do? We decided to go with the story as it is.
> 
> I'm grateful to Susan for her understanding. I know I've lost track of some of the people who gave significant advice and help, so I hope they forgive me. I'd like to extend a special thanks to Lyn for doing a thorough beta job on such a long story. She had a lot of my errors to catch. If there's anything else wrong, blame me.

 

 **HOPE STILL LIVES**  
By [Jael Lyn](mailto:jael_lyn@hotmail.com)  
February 2004

__

The work goes on, the cause endures, the hope still lives and the dreams shall never die.  
\---- Edward Kennedy

Jim Ellison pulled into the nearest parking place and checked his watch. He was running behind, or fashionably late, as his ex-wife would have once told him. A busy day at Major Crime had seen to that. After the late start, he'd lost a little more time deciphering Edward's street directions, combined with a quick stop at the grocery. He never had been comfortable arriving at someone's home empty-handed, and tonight was no exception. In the few months since Edwards had transferred to Major Crime, the two men had become close friends. They'd discovered they had a lot in common, including a blossoming friendship between their guides. Jim felt a pang at the thought of Blair. Social outings were few and far between. His guide would have enjoyed this.

Jim checked his purchases before sliding out into the notorious Cascade drizzle. He'd chosen a few snacks, a good bottle of wine for the two sentinels, and a sparkling cider that Blair liked, making the assumption that David's tastes would be similar. He would have added a dessert or French bread, but hated to mess up any plans his hosts had made. As he made his way up into the courtyard of Edwards' building, he located the correct number and made a quick scan. Both sentinel and guide were home, and Edwards was apparently watching the Jags game. It was no surprise when Edwards greeted him before he reached the door. Every sentinel he knew usually responded before a visitor got close enough to knock. 

"Hey, Jim," Edwards said, taking Jim's coat. They had long since dispensed with more formal address when off-duty. He nodded toward the grocery bag. "You didn't need to bring anything."

Jim smiled. "I wanted to. David's just as bad about junk food at Blair is." He passed the goodies on to Edwards. "Did I choose the right wine?"

Edward's checked the label as they walked into the spacious living room. "You bet. It's perfect. Just the beer would have been plenty," he added, looking at the carrier still in Jim's hand. "You're a man after my own heart. Grab a couple and I'll put the rest of this in the kitchen."

Jim scented the air, which was laden with the aroma of roasting meat. "I'm assuming David's cooking, or we'd be eating take-out."

"You'd assume right," Edwards answered with a laugh. "I promise, that roast he's making is way better than any take-out."

"Where is the chef of the evening?" Jim asked, not seeing or sensing David anywhere on the first floor.

"He was fussing over the meal, and it was making me crazy. The idea of having the Senior Sentinel Prime to dinner makes him nervous. I sent him off to work on his latest creation. If you keep your voice down, maybe we won't disturb him." He motioned for Jim to sit, and accepted a beer gratefully. They settled comfortably for a moment, nominally watching the Jags, but Edwards suddenly bounded off the couch. "Hey, since David's not here, I want to show you something." He grabbed a picture frame off a nearby bookcase. "Take a look at this."

Jim gasped. He set the beer on the coffee table to take a closer look. The pen and ink drawing of Edwards and David fairly leaped out of the frame. "That's David's work?" Jim set the picture carefully on a nearby table. "That's amazing. This is his first class, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Edwards said, with a clear note of pride in his voice. "All these years together, and I had no idea what kind of talent he had."

Jim hesitated, and then asked the question anyway. "Don't take this wrong, but do they know? That he's a guide."

Edwards nodded. "I know exactly what you're asking, and the answer is yes and no. His instructor - yes, the institution - no. After everything Blair's gone through getting started at Rainier, I didn't want it to go badly. I spoke with the instructor before David attended the first class. He agreed to treat him like any other student, and David's status is confidential. We followed Blair's advice. He's auditing, so we didn't have to fill out a lot of paperwork. Did you know I went with him for the first few classes?"

"No," Jim answered. "Excuse me, but how did you pull that off? You must fit into an art class about as well as I would."

"Yeah, you got that right. Since everything seemed fine, I don't go any more. Between you and me, I just couldn't handle it."

"Couldn't handle what?" Jim asked. The thought of Edwards, the former Marine, bailing on anything didn't seem possible.

"Damn, Jim, they started having nude models for figure drawing. I can't take the embarrassment." Jim promptly choked on his beer. "You have no idea how unnerving an hour or so of naked is," Edwards scolded. "Don't act so superior. I've seen you squirm when Sandburg takes off on some weird tribal custom or other. You wouldn't do it either." Both men laughed. "And I'll let you in on a secret. The college is having a public showing of student work, and David was asked to be in it."

"Are you going to allow it?" Jim asked cautiously, hoping he'd phrased the question correctly. Despite the current drift toward reform, the majority of sentinels made decisions, major and minor, for their guides. To imply otherwise could be potentially insulting.

"It took me back for a bit. All that conditioning about what's appropriate for a guide kicked in, even though I don't even believe that crap anymore. Look at Blair, for God's sake. I said 'yes', and I'm glad I did. He'll just exhibit under his initials or something, instead of his full name. Just to maintain his cover. I don't think he's ready for a bunch of cheap 'keep the guide in his place' criticism."

Jim nodded in agreement, grinning. "Here we go again, breaking all the rules. The GDP must have a dartboard with our pictures on it. Between them, Blair and David are living testimonies to why we shouldn't be shunting empaths off to Guide College."

"David didn't even get that much," Edwards said ruefully. "His empathic abilities were pretty exceptional. He was barely eighteen, still in high school, when they sent him to his first mixer and we met. You know firsthand how the Army is, and the Marines aren't any different. They want the best, and when they find it, they don't mess around. They arranged our bonding, sent us through intensive training, and we shipped out to active duty before his senior class even graduated." 

"I didn't know that," Jim commented quietly.

"I guess I never really thought about it at the time. David was always the perfect guide; conscious of protocol, loyal, obedient. He never complained or seemed sad. Looking back on it, he must have been crushed. He never really had a chance to grow up." Edwards picked up the drawing in its glossy black frame, studying the picture. "I regret it now. Look at this - all that untapped potential. I'm glad Blair spoke up and suggested letting him pursue his art. I've never seen David happier."

"So you did the right thing when you had the chance. Maybe that's what counts. Even if you had known, the Marines wouldn't have allowed David to be trained any differently."

"Isn't that the truth?" Edwards returned the drawing to its original spot on the shelf. "I don't know, Jim, I'm really questioning the wisdom of training empaths only with an eye to serving their sentinels. I feel like I'm relearning all the rules from scratch."

"That makes two of us," Jim replied, raising his bottle in a toast. "Breaking new ground all the way."

"Our Guide Prime couldn't get away, huh?" Edwards asked.

Jim shook his head. "He has an afternoon seminar on Tuesdays, which we could have worked around. He called right before he went to class and said he had to teach an evening session for another TA. Some kind of emergency."

"We can make up a plate for him, or hold dinner until he's done. When does he finish?"

"Seven to ten. The class only meets twice a week."

Edwards gave a low whistle. "That's an awfully long day. You're worried about him aren't you? His barriers must be crashing. They'd have to be." Jim nodded. "Look, its only dinner, Jim. We can reschedule. Get over there."

"I offered, but Blair asked me not to. Surviving on his own at Rainier is so important to him. Besides, he says I scare the kids. I guess having me lurking in the back of the classroom doesn't make for good discussion."

Edwards snickered. "A nice, laid-back guy like you is intimidating? Nah, can't be." His smile faded. "That's not all, is it?"

"No," Jim said evenly. He trusted Edwards, but he found the discussion difficult. "He's so determined, but I'm afraid it's too much. He works like a fiend, doesn't get enough down time, and the hassles don't ever seem to stop."

"Those GDP bastards aren't still leashing him, are they?" Edwards' voice rose in anger. The two sentinels had been together when an overzealous GDP officer had left Blair leashed for hours. "I swear, after what I saw, and what David has repeated to me, we ought to both go over there and clean house."

Jim sighed. "I wish it were that simple. We get one thing solved, and something else crops up. David's with you all the time. I envy you that. You can protect him, shield him. It's the daily separation that makes Blair so vulnerable. One day it's a disrespectful student. The next day, his photocopies disappear from the Anthro office. He even had to drop a class because the professor basically told him anything he turned in would be marked 'Failing', no matter what he did."

"I assume you dealt with that one?" Edwards said grimly.

"I did, up close and personal. Please don't repeat that, either. Blair doesn't know, and he'd be upset if he did. It gave me great satisfaction, but in the long run, it only calls attention to his status as a guide, and makes matters worse." Jim studied the label on his beer as if it would provide the answers he needed. "He copes, but it's exhausting him."

"What are you going to do?" Edwards asked.

"I wish I knew. With your permission, I'd like to discuss it with David. He and Blair are friends. Maybe he can suggest some ideas from a guide's point of view," Jim asked. Inwardly, he was cringing. It was a huge breach of normal protocol to suggest such a personal discussion with someone else's guide.

"Of course. Finish your beer and try not to worry. It'll be halftime soon, and we can consider the options over dinner. We'll think of something."

Jim leaned back to relax and watch the game, wishing he could match Edwards' optimism.

&&&&&

Blair looked at the phone on his desk and willed himself not to dial Jim's number. He was determined not to interrupt Jim's evening, or, more importantly, admit that he couldn't make it through the day. It was an expectation that Teaching Fellows and Assistants covered each other's classes when necessary. Because of his guide status, he could easily have asked to be excused, but he hadn't. He was fairly sure that the request to cover had originated from Dr. Manning. He probably would have been delighted if Blair had declined to teach tonight, or needed to end class early. Dr. Manning never missed an opportunity to note his shortcomings. Blair was determined to see the evening through, no matter what.

They'd completed the first hour, and Blair had given the class a ten minute break. It was customary in a three hour session. Right now, he needed it more than the students. The class was giving him a tough time. Night college students at Rainier were a totally different population, and several individuals had made it clear with their rude behavior they knew Blair was a working guide and didn't appreciate it. He'd dashed to his office and spent five minutes of his short break sitting in total stillness, trying to reestablish his fraying barriers. The break had passed quickly, and now it was time to head back.

He gulped the last of an energy bar and drained the tea in his mug. Hopefully, the caffeine would kick in. "You can do this, Blair," he told himself. "Don't be a wimp."

&&&&&

"David, that was fantastic," Jim said with a sigh. "I wish Blair could have been here."

"So do I," David answered. "I sliced some of the roast off, and made him a sandwich before we sat down. Maybe you can coax him to eat before he goes to bed."

"I appreciate that, David, and so will Blair. Thank you."

"We're still waiting for your thoughts on Blair's situation," Edwards said gently. "We're not letting you off the hook."

David looked apprehensively at the two sentinel primes. As a guide, he wasn't accustomed to being included at the table during a company dinner, much less having his ideas actively solicited.

"Come on, David," his own sentinel said, trying to encourage him. "We asked. We're not going to bite."

"I'm not sure what I can tell you," David said hesitantly, fumbling with a napkin. "Blair's situation is so unique. He's very strong, and he maintains his barriers much better than I do already."

"Maintains at a cost," Jim said firmly. "Blair doesn't always ask for what he needs. As a fellow guide, make a guess."

"Well, proximity helps, but you already know that," David said. "I guess - maybe - "

"David, quit beating around the bush," Edwards said sharply. David tensed at the tone of his sentinel's voice, and Edwards smiled to reassure him. "I just meant you can be honest," he added in a much softer voice. "Don't hesitate because of protocol. Sentinel Ellison wouldn't ask if he didn't think you could help."

"I - I'm sorry, Sentinel. Please accept my apology." David lowered his head and went silent. In another moment, he'd be on his knees.

"David, don't apologize," Jim said quickly, trying to reassure him. If it had been Blair, he would have reached out to touch him, but you just didn't do that with another sentinel's guide. "I know this is making you uncomfortable. Please, just try, for Blair's sake."

Okay," David said slowly. He eyes were riveted on Edwards, watching carefully for the signal to stop. "After we left the Marines, it was really hard for me. In the service, we were by ourselves a lot. It was easier to make physical contact, and that strengthens your barriers automatically. At the police department, it was so public. I had to maintain more of a distance to be appropriate. You're always meeting new people. Even with people you know, so many of them are hostile, it beats you down. Since we moved to Major Crime, people are more understanding, and I feel less - separated." His eyes never strayed from Edwards, conscious of the implied criticism. Before associating with Ellison, his sentinel had always insisted on complete privacy for anything connected with bonding. He leaned closer to his sentinel and lowered his eyes, silently asking to be pardoned.

"David's correct," Edwards said, patting his guide's shoulder in reassurance. "In civilian life, I was uncomfortable, too. I was more worried about what other people thought than whether it was difficult for my guide." He lightly stroked the back of David's neck. "It's okay, David. I'm still adjusting. Lunch helps, though, doesn't it?"

David nodded with a wide smile. "Oh, yeah. Maybe that would help Blair, Sentinel Ellison."

"What would help?" Jim asked, knowing he'd lost the thread of what had momentarily become a private interchange.

Edwards explained. "Now that we work downtown, I found a great little café close to headquarters. They hold a booth for us; very secluded and private. We can squeeze in and David can soak up whatever he needs, away from prying eyes and all the turmoil of the station. Unless we get called out for an emergency, I've made it a daily priority."

"It really rebuilds my barriers, and settles me for the afternoon. You meet Blair for lunch sometimes, don't you?" David asked. 

Jim considered that. "Usually he just runs over to the PD as soon as he finishes, and we eat on the run. Blair's tries to cram so much into the day. He's always getting delayed and then races madly to catch up. Every now and then, I can tell he's struggling and I drag him off to the Sentinel Suite. You probably know he hates going to the Suite unless it's really necessary."

"It's worth a try, Jim," Edwards said. "Simon's a very sentinel savvy boss. He would understand the need to block out some time in the middle of the day, for Blair's sake."

"You could meet him at his office," David suggested, his eyes twinkling. "Somehow I think people would hesitate to sidetrack him with the Senior Sentinel Prime of Cascade looming in the doorway." All three men chuckled at the gentle joke.

Jim checked his watch. "Blair's class should be finishing up soon. He never leaves until he's answered every last question. Why don't I go do some of that 'looming' and hustle his butt along. Thanks for the dinner, and for the suggestions. I'll talk to Blair."

They said their goodbyes. David immediately went to clean up the kitchen, but Edwards intercepted him. "We can clean tomorrow. Come sit down." Sentinel and guide relaxed on the couch, and David leaned ever-so-slightly into Edward's chest. "You were right to speak freely, David. I'm proud of you, you know." Time swirled away as they slipped easily into the bond.

&&&&&

It was nearly ten when Jim got to Hargrove Hall. He checked Blair's office. The familiar backpack was perched on the desk, half buried in a blizzard of papers. A quick glance at Blair's appointment book gave him the number of the lecture hall his guide was using. Leaving the office, he tuned his hearing three floors above, hoping to catch a hint of Blair's voice. The general hubbub told him that class had just been dismissed, and Blair would be headed down shortly. Unsure of whether a bone-tired Blair would opt for the elevator or take the stairs, Jim waited in the hallway, trying to sort through the sounds.

It took a few minutes before he could isolate Blair's heartbeat in the throng. What he heard during the search put Jim's teeth on edge. Clearly, this had been a hostile audience. Blair was apparently waiting for the room and hallways to clear. When he finally left the lecture hall, he headed off in a direction away from the nearest elevator, no doubt to avoid any further contact.

Jim angled in the same direction, intending to meet his partner halfway. When he reached the stairwell, he could hear Blair's slow footsteps echoing above him on the marble stair treads. He was just about to call out a greeting, when a series of thuds and a shout of surprise and pain sent him pounding up the stairs, two at a time.

He found Blair sprawled at the bottom of a landing, books and papers scattered in all directions. He'd managed to roll to his side by the time Jim reached him. His glasses were a crumpled wreck, and one of the broken lenses had left a deep gash in one cheek. 

Above them, Jim could clearly hear the footfalls of someone retreating in the opposite direction. For a brief moment, he wanted only to charge up the stairs in hot pursuit. No one hurt his guide and got away with it. The trickle of blood down Blair's cheek tipped the scales. His guide needed him first. Exacting vengeance would have to wait. Blair started to push himself up, and Jim quickly dropped to his knees. "Chief! Stay still buddy."

"Jim? Oh, man, this hurts." He tried to sit up again, but Jim stopped him with a gentle hand to the shoulder.

"I mean it! Stay put while I check you out." Jim's hands ghosted over his guide's body. Heat was already rising from areas that would be purple with bruises in the morning. "I don't think you broke anything, but you're sure banged up." He slowly raised Blair up and helped him lean against the corner.

"I think I missed a step at the top," Blair mumbled.

Jim made no comment, keeping his thoughts to himself. _No, you didn't miss any damn step. Someone pushed you. Which is it? You didn't realize it, or you don't want to tell me? If he couldn't catch the guy, maybe it was no use bringing it up._

Blair was still talking, almost more to himself than to Jim. "I just tumbled over and over. I couldn't catch myself. Oh, no - my glasses." He picked up the mangled frames. "You just got these for me."

"Forget the glasses, Chief, how about your head?" 

"Am I bleeding?" Blair asked, as his unsteady hand brushed against his face. He stared at his own bloody fingers as if he couldn't quite comprehend where the red smears had come from. "Ah, man, you must think I'm a complete idiot. Can't even get back to my office on my own."

"You worry about the dumbest things, Sandburg," Jim said sharply. He pressed a handkerchief against the still-bleeding cut. "Here, hold this, and look at me. I need to check your eyes."

"I don't have a concussion, Jim. Let's go. Just get me to my car."

"That's your expert medical opinion, huh?" Jim asked skeptically. Blair was probably right about the concussion. Of greater concern were his barriers. Even in the presence of his sentinel, his body was vibrating with tiny tremors. Jim could clearly read the signs of near overload. "How long have your barriers been shot to hell?"

Blair's eyes widened, and then he shrugged, giving up the argument before it started. Instead, he slumped against his sentinel's chest, and choked back a groan. Jim wrapped his arms around the trembling shoulders.

"Long day, huh? Let's get you home." Jim gathered his friend's possessions and helped him to his feet. This discussion would have to wait for another time, preferably at the loft under less stressful circumstances. "Wrap your arm around my waist, Chief, and we'll take it nice and easy."

"I need my stuff."

"Not tonight. You've had enough for one day. Just this once, let me make the call."

It took triple the normal time to make the short walk to the truck. Jim had no intention of letting Blair drive in his condition. Two minutes into the drive home, Blair unfastened his seat belt, scooted toward the middle of the truck, and leaned against Jim's shoulder. Jim let it go. Apparently, Blair needed physical contact with his sentinel more than the usual safety procedures. His guide's ragged breathing and uneven heartbeat told him everything he needed to know.

At the door of the loft, Jim finally spoke in crisp low tones. "Wait on the couch. I'll lock up and be right there."

"Jim, it's okay. It's late..."

"Don't argue with me. David made you a sandwich. I'll slice up some of that fresh fruit you got yesterday to go with it."

Blair started to follow him to the kitchen. "I can do the fruit. Do you want something, too?"

Jim turned so quickly Blair ran into him. "Get back in there, Sandburg. Go sit down before you fall down. You're going to eat, relax, and build up your barriers, not cook a meal. I'm not taking 'no' for an answer."

Blair was too tired to argue.

&&&&&

Jim scowled. A pre-dawn, rain-drenched park might be a great secluded meeting site for betraying your organized crime family, but it was a lousy place for Sandburg on this particular morning. Unfortunately, it was the sort of thing he rarely did without his guide, and Blair would have rebelled at the thought of being left behind. In true Sandburg fashion, he had downed a cup of coffee and pronounced himself "good to go", not that Jim believed him for a minute. He'd dropped into a doze three minutes away from the loft.

Well, there was no hope for it. If this went well, maybe they could grab a quick breakfast before Blair went to the University. Jim jiggled his guide's leg, gently coaxing him back to consciousness. "Time to go, Chief. You with me, sleepyhead?"

Blair blinked several times, trying to act as though he hadn't really been asleep. "Sure, Jim. No problem." He yawned, unable to stifle the reflex. "Tell me again why we're talking to this guy. I must not have been paying attention."

Jim wasn't surprised by the question. It had taken all of Blair's energy to drag his bruised and battered body out of bed. "Paul Kinnick is a lieutenant in what's left of the Lazar crime organization. He contacted me a few weeks ago, and indicated he wanted a way out. I didn't buy it at first. I put him off, but he called again this morning, without any warning. This is the first time we've met directly. He was insistent, and I don't dare put him off."

"So this could be pretty important?" 

"Potentially, he could bring out some extremely useful information with him. We have the Lazar organization on the ropes; this might break them for good. I'm his only contact, so I can't shove this off on someone else." Jim gestured toward the fog-shrouded trees. "There's a fountain and gazebo over there. That's where we're supposed to meet."

Blair seemed hesitant. "Does he know I'll be there?" he asked.

"He knows I'm a sentinel." Jim dug behind the bench seat of the truck. "Here, put these gloves on and button up. You shouldn't be out in this after yesterday."

"Don't apologize for doing your job, Jim. Where you go, I go. Stop trying to coddle me." He looked back over his shoulder as he climbed out of the truck. "And you can save Lecture 27, the one about how the sentinel needs to protect the guide."

"You're impossible," Jim scolded, but he smiled as he said it. Since they were alone, he wrapped an arm around Blair's shoulders, and they walked toward the trees.

"Can you hear them?" Blair asked. 

Jim nodded, but frowned. "That's strange. I hear two people. I wasn't expecting anyone except Kinnick." He listened again. "One's female. She sounds young. Her name's Molly."

"Who's she?" Blair asked.

Jim shook his head. "I have absolutely no idea. Kinnick isn't married."

"Maybe a sister? Or a girlfriend?" Blair suggested.

"He's never mentioned a lady. He had two older brothers. Both were killed in the fallout after we brought the elder Lazar down. That's all the family I know about." Jim brought them to a halt. "They're right over there. I guess we'll find out. Stay behind me until we know how things are going. If I tell you to bug out, you do it, no arguments. You have the cell to call backup?"

Blair nodded, and dropped into step slightly behind Jim. The area surrounding the fountain was paved in brick. The fountain itself was not formal, but fit the natural setting. Water poured down a series of large boulders into a small pool. Just beyond it stood two figures; a man nearly as tall as Jim, and a young woman. She was bundled into a hooded raincoat and barely visible. Stretching his vision, Jim caught a glimpse of dark brown eyes and a few wisps of very dark hair. As they approached, Kinnick whispered to her and she stepped back. Jim scanned both of them with his senses, grateful for Blair's presence at his side. There was something very odd about the girl, but he couldn't quite isolate it. 

Jim broke the silence. "I wasn't expecting a guest, Kinnick. You going to make the introductions?"

"This is Molly." Kinnick turned to her and said. "Okay, honey, go get out of the rain. I'll just be a minute." He said nothing until she was seated in the gazebo. He gestured angrily toward Blair. "Couldn't you have left him in your vehicle?"

"You know I'm a sentinel. Now that I have a guide, he comes with me. What else did you expect?" 

"I don't want him around when we talk. Send him away."

Jim instantly bristled, but Blair smoothed the situation over. "I'll go to the gazebo. You can see me, and he can see her." 

Jim looked steadily at Kinnick. "Sounds fair to me. Or do we call this whole thing off right now?"

"Do you guarantee she'll be safe around him? He is a guide, after all," Kinnick asked pointedly.

"Keep your prejudice to yourself," Jim snarled. 

Blair laid a calming hand on Jim's arm. "Let it go," he murmured softly. "We'll both be in plain sight. Guide's aren't predators, sir." He started to walk toward the gazebo, willing himself not to be insulted by Kinnick's attitude.

"Damn uppity, for a guide. Get this straight, Ellison," Kinnick growled, as soon as Blair was of hearing range. "None of this touches Molly, and when I come out, so does she. I want her in witness protection. I'll testify, do anything you want, but she disappears."

"We don't have a deal yet, Kinnick. What happens depends on your information."

Kinnick shook his head adamantly. "Like I said, I'm not talking about me, only Molly. She's in no way involved with the organization, so it's not going to compromise anyone's principles to insure her safety. That's my precondition, or we never see each other again."

Jim looked quickly over at the gazebo. Blair had seated himself on the same bench with the young woman and was striking up a conversation. Kinnick was also watching, but raised no objection. Knowing Blair would fill him in on anything the woman said, Jim concentrated on the task at hand. "You understand, I'll have to confirm it," Jim said. "I can try to give you an answer by the end of the day. It might even take longer."

Kinnick's heart rate soared, even though the expression on his face never changed. He didn't like what he was hearing. "I'm not jerking you around," Jim said quietly. "I don't have the authority, and I won't make a promise I can't keep. I want you to know that up front. If I tell you something, then I'm sure of it." He held his breath. He didn't want this one to fizzle.

"Done," Kinnick finally muttered.

"Then talk to me." Together, they slipped under the cover of the huge fir trees. If someone came by, they would go completely unobserved.

&&&&&&&&

"Hi, Molly, my name's Blair."

"Hi," she answered softly, her tone disconsolate. "They sent you off like a child, too. Welcome to the club." Her eyes ran over him from head to toe. "You don't look like a cop."

"No. I'm graduate student, and I teach at Rainier. I'm also Jim's guide."

The woman's eyes snapped with hostility. "You must think I'm really stupid. Guides don't go to University, and they sure don't teach."

Blair smiled. He was willing to bet she was frightened and hurt as opposed to unkind. "Most don't, but I do. It surprises people sometimes. You look about college age. Do you attend somewhere?"

"No." The woman's hostility vanished, and she seemed very sad. "I wanted to go. I would have been a freshman. I had good grades and everything." She sighed. "It didn't work out."

"Hey, lots of people don't start college right away. What were you interested in?"

"Do you think so?" she said hopefully. "I wanted to be a fashion designer."

"Well, you'll take art classes then. One of my friends never went to college, and he's taking an art class in the evenings, at the Cascade Branch of University of Washington. You could do something like that until you can attend full time. He's a lot older than you are, and he's doing great."

"Really? Maybe Paul could..." Her voice drifted off, and she looked sad again. "Probably not. I know he's just trying to watch out for me, but sometimes it's frustrating. It isn't that I'm not grateful. After my dad died, he didn't have to take care of me."

"Are you family?" Blair asked. No sense in missing the opportunity to find out where this young woman fit into the picture.

"Technically, he was my step-dad, and Paul's my step-uncle, I guess. Paul's older brother married my mom when I was little. When my mom died, he said I'd always be his little girl. Paul's the only family I have left." Tears flooded her eyes.

"I'm sorry. It hurts to lose someone you love," Blair said gently.

She nodded in agreement. "There was a big age difference between my dad and Paul. He could have shipped me off or something. He didn't. He said if I was family to his brother, that I was family to him. Now he wants us both to leave, but I guess you already know that."

Blair didn't know anything of the sort, but that was beside the point. "That's probably why he's talking to Jim. You can trust him. He's a good man."

"Paul isn't big on police." She looked towards the trees. "What kind of an officer is he?"

"A detective in Major Crime, and a sentinel. If Paul wants his protection, he'll do anything necessary to keep you safe."

"I guess as a guide, you'd know that." 

They were quiet for a little while. The mist was beginning to clear, and they could barely see the outline of the two men, deep in conversation. Blair felt the chill despite his coat. It made his strained muscles and bruises ache all the more. He was starting to drift, and Molly's next question jerked him back to reality.

"What happened to your face? Did your sentinel discipline you?"

"No. Jim would never hit me," Blair snapped, offended at the suggestion. Her eyes widened, and an explanation seemed warranted. Most people would make the same assumption. "I tripped coming down the stairs after my night class. I was wearing my glasses, and the lenses broke."

"Oh," she said. "It looks like it hurts." She hesitated. "Could I ask you something else? About being a guide?"

Coming out of the blue like that, the question might have set off all of Blair's radar. He lowered his barriers just a bit. Her emotions gave no hint of anything malicious. "Sure," he said. "I'll answer if I can."

"I didn't mean to pry," she confessed, looking embarrassed.

"It's okay. Lot's of people are curious. Sentinel 101 just tells you what the GDP wants you to hear."

"Being a guide - it's kind of like being married, isn't it?"

The question took Blair by surprise, but Molly seemed sincere, so he decided to answer. "I guess in some ways it is. We live together. We both do regular household stuff. If you mean sexually, then the answer is, 'no'. A lot of people misunderstand that. I have my own room in Jim's home. The bond between sentinel and guide is physical and emotional rather than sexual."

"Oh, I didn't mean..." Her distress came at him in waves. He decided she meant no harm. Her emotions seemed oddly intense. He must still be worn down from yesterday's marathon.

"Don't worry. I didn't take the question that way. I just thought you might want to know, since you asked about marriage." He reached out and patted her knee gently. His barriers sizzled, and he froze. Her emotional signature was unlike anything he'd ever felt. He was so shocked he almost missed her next statement.

"Ruberto Lazar wants to marry me. He's a very important man, but Paul doesn't think he'd be a good husband." She sighed. "That's why Paul says we need to leave. I don't know why we couldn't just say 'no' or something. He's a rich man. Don't you think there would be lots of girls who would want to marry him?"

Blair could imagine a few dozen reasons why it would be unhealthy to deny Ruberto Lazar anything. "Do you love him?" he asked impulsively, and then wondered if she'd be offended. She seemed to answer without any qualms. For a young woman of college age, she seemed terribly innocent.

"I hardly know him. He's older, the same age as my step-dad. I haven't really ever dated. After my mom died, my dad was my whole world. He always said eventually I'd go to college and meet someone my own age. But then I didn't go to college, and now I just don't know what to think."

Blair didn't answer. He was concentrating, trying to analyze what was so unique about this woman-child. It was a struggle. He felt so tired. He closed his eyes, trying vainly to focus. When he opened them again, Jim had come into the open and was motioning for him to come over. Molly was already saying goodbye.

"Thanks for talking to me, Blair. Maybe I'll see you again sometime."

"Bye, Molly. Take care." He waited where he was, feeling dizzy and shaken. Jim must have sensed something was wrong. By the time Molly was walking away with Kinnick, Jim was on the gazebo steps next to him.

"Are you okay, Chief?"

Blair leaned close and whispered, "Jim! Scan her before she goes. There's something really strange about her."

"I noticed it, too," Jim murmured. He only had a few moments before the pair disappeared through the trees. He shook his head. "I'm just not sure. One of many puzzles. Let's go. We can compare notes while we drive." 

&&&&&

Paul Kinnick unlocked the car. Ellison had assured him that no one else was in the park, and a sentinel ought to know. No one had seen their rendezvous; no one would suspect. "Molly, I need you to listen very carefully. If anyone asks, you tell the truth. We went to the park, took a walk, and then went to breakfast. The only thing you leave out is talking to someone while we were here. We're going to eat now, and then I'll take you home. Just go about your regular routine."

"Okay, Paul. I understand. Is it still okay if I go shopping tomorrow? My friend Kayla asked me last week."

Kinnick considered that. She was so unprepared for what they had in front of them. His brother had carefully kept her from any knowledge of the business. As far as she was concerned, Michael had died of natural causes, and he had no intention of telling her anything different. He also had no intention of letting Ruberto Lazar get his claws on her.

It was going to be a tense day. Ellison had promised him he would act quickly, and he believed the man. He might need to move at a moment's notice. He really didn't want to let Molly out of his sight, but it might look suspicious to do otherwise.

"Shopping is fine, but we'll discuss it again tomorrow. I need to be able to reach you." He looked at her across the vehicle. Her brown eyes had widened. She was such a sensitive kid. "Just do exactly what I tell you to do, and everything will be okay. Don't fret. That guide didn't bother you, did he?"

"Oh, no. He was very nice. Did you know he teaches at the University?"

"A guide? Honey, guides stay with their sentinels."

"He said he taught at Rainier, and was a grad student. I don't think he lied to me, Paul."

"Well, maybe not." Ellison's guide was the least of his worries. He pulled into the lot of Molly's favorite breakfast place. "Come on. Let's go demolish some strawberry waffles."

&&&&&

Jim's mind was racing. He needed to see Simon. They'd set up a priority meeting with the organized crime task force, and probably with the District Attorney's Office. They couldn't waste this opportunity by dithering around.

He could drop Blair at the University, then get to the station. He looked quickly at his partner, and had second thoughts. Blair was still pretty shaky, even though he'd never admit it. He checked his watch. It was barely seven. Simon wouldn't be in for another hour, even if he called him at home. The same was true for the members of the task force. Twenty minutes spent with Blair wasn't going to make a difference either way. Time for a quick change of plan. He made an abrupt left turn at the next intersection. Blair gave him a questioning look.

"That bagel place you like is down this block, isn't it?" Jim asked. "We can stop off and take a minute to map out our day."

"Okay," Blair said a little hesitantly. After a few moments, he added, "I kind of figured Kinnick would take up most of your day."

"Probably will," Jim agreed as he pulled the truck into a parking spot. Both men climbed out of the vehicle. Jim didn't miss the groan Blair tried to stifle. He waited at the curb and wrapped an arm around his guide's shoulders. "I expect you to pick something delicious for me. Don't they make breakfast things here, too?"

Blair did a double take. "Yeah, but I thought we were just picking up takeout."

"Everyone I need to talk to is either getting ready to leave home or is already on the way in to the office. I can't imagine you have many students showing up this early. We have time to eat."

They stopped at the counter and ordered. When Blair ordered nothing more than a bagel and juice for himself, Jim quickly added a side of scrambled eggs and some fruit, along with an omelet for himself. Jim's mind floated back to his conversation with David the previous evening. Proximity; he could do proximity. Glasses of juice in hand, he steered them to a table in the back. He scooted Blair's chair close enough for their legs to touch. Blair seemed to understand, and sighed as he basked in his sentinel's shielding.

Jim worried about Blair's level of exhaustion. "I'd like to take you back home. I'm not sure you're up to running around Rainier right now," Jim said.

Blair snapped immediately into anxious grad student mode. "I have an awful lot of grading, Jim. I didn't get anything done last night. Even if I stayed home, I'd still need to work, and all my stuff is at school. Really, I'll be okay."

"I know that, but you don't have any classes, do you? Office hours?"

"Not really. My only class is at three. I could do some schoolwork, and come to the station before lunch. I can crash in my office if I really need to. I don't need to go home."

Jim considered that for a moment. "No one was expecting this to move so rapidly. It will take a while to contact the task force and get everyone there for a review. Just before lunchtime might work out fine." 

They ate in silence for a moment. Blair tore small mouthfuls off his bagel, usually a sure sign he wanted to ask something and was afraid to. "Spit it out, Chief. What's on your mind?"

"Well - uh - will you just be doing the task force thing?"

Jim was confused. "Sandburg, you know the routine, and we already talked about this. The task force is the first step." Blair still looked apprehensive. "What are you really asking me?"

Blair took a deep breath. "I mean, will it be too soon for the DA's office? They've got some people, one in particular - I don't know his name - he doesn't like guides at all. David and some of the other guides have mentioned it."

Jim swore under his breath. He'd forgotten about W. D. Price. Most members of the PD, Jim included, disliked the man on multiple levels, for a wide variety of reasons. His arrogance was legendary. Although he ran roughshod over nearly everyone, Price had a reputation of being particularly tough on guides. Prior to bonding, Jim had never paid any attention to that particular issue. Now that he had a guide, no less an authority than Sentinel Dr. Harvey had warned him to be careful around the man.

"W.D. Price. A total jerk." Jim said angrily. "I forgot about him. I'm glad you reminded me. The task force will review everything, and that takes some time. The DA's office normally wouldn't be called in until after we bring Kinnick in from the cold. No need for you to worry about him, at least today." 

"Okay," Blair said, taking a healthy bite of his abused bagel. "I'd just like to avoid him if I can. Angry people take a lot of energy."

"I understand. Maybe Simon can put a word in for someone else. The Prosecutor's Office has more than one attorney. So, are we settled? I'll come get you before lunch."

"Jim, I can get over to the station," Blair protested. "My car's in the lot at school."

"Not a chance. I don't want you driving, and you're not catching a bus across town or something like that. You're hurting, Chief, and I should probably be insisting that you take a sentinel day and go straight back to bed." He knew Blair hated it when he hovered. To soften the blow, he added, "Humor me."

"Thanks, Jim," Blair said with a smile. "I know you're just trying to look out for me."

Their food arrived. Hoping to catch Blair in a good mood, Jim handed him two aspirin. He'd grabbed them before leaving the loft, knowing full well Blair would never take anything on his own. "Don't even bother to argue," Jim said pointedly. "Now eat."

&&&&&

His stomach full and feeling decidedly less achy, Blair waved at Jim's departing truck. He shifted his books to the other arm, where he had fewer bruises. He should really head for his office and do that grading, but he kept walking past Hargrove Hall and headed for the library. Molly and her unusual bearing were too tantalizing a question to let go.

Since leaving the park, Blair had considered several possibilities and discarded them all. She wasn't a guide, even one just coming on line. Damper drugs weren't feasible either. Even with damper drugs, a sentinel of Jim's abilities would have honed in on guide status immediately once he'd taken the time to check. 

Nor was she like their neighbor, Hetty, who had empathic ability but wasn't talented enough to be a guide. That was common enough. Individuals and their families were watchful, since anyone with empathic tendencies at any level had inherent vulnerabilities. Even late bloomers were generally aware of their empathic abilities as children to a certain extent. Testing starting at an early age was routine. The girl had given no sign of being aware of any empathic potential.

Adding to his frustration was a feeling that he'd read something related - but what was it? He had a vague image in his head of a fragile, age-yellowed page, decorated along the margins with colorful designs. 

Why couldn't he remember the name of the text? He reached the steps of the library, but made a quick stop on the wide, padded benches in the entry. The short walk from Hargrove had his muscles screaming, and he felt light-headed. He took the moment to rest, and plan a strategy. He could scan through the reference stacks. Based on what he remembered, a stop in the special collections' library, where many of the old manuscripts and books were located, was probably called for. It was possible that the book, and flighty scraps of memory indicated a book, was in the Sentinel Section, which was more of a problem. Guide Sandburg, no matter what his university status, wasn't welcome in the specially designed part of the library reserved for sentinels to do their studying.

Jim would have a fit if he knew he was prowling around campus all morning instead of chilling out with his feet up in his office. Feeling a little guilty, he used his cell phone to ring Jim at the station. Jim didn't answer, which probably meant he was already meeting with Simon. Blair sighed in guilty relief. Conversing with the answering machine meant he could avoid an immediate argument with his sentinel. Blair left a message that he'd be at the main library, and would call if he went elsewhere. That done, he began his search.

&&&&&

Dr. Phillip Manning could hardly contain his irritation. He'd been overjoyed to find Sandburg's office empty when he made a surreptitious visit to the basement of Hargrove Hall. Minutes later, he was disappointed. According to the department secretary, Sandburg had no obligation to be present on this particular morning. He had one of his own classes in the afternoon, but no teaching or office hours were on the schedule. When he'd set the substitute class gambit up, he trusted to luck that Sandburg would have early responsibilities to make things more difficult. If a repeat was needed, he'd plan more carefully.

He retrieved the materials from his mailbox. The envelope he expected was on the top of the stack. He hurried to his office, locked the door, and tore open the seal on the envelope. He smiled as he settled the tape of Sandburg's lecture in the player. The young man had to have been on his last legs. Surely, class would not have gone well. With the tape as proof, he'd be able to establish once and for all what a foolish idea it was to put a guide in an academic environment.

After a half hour of listening, skipping to different sections of the tape, his hopes were dashed. Anyone listening to the tape would find no fault with Sandburg's performance. If anything, his deft handling of a few verbally hostile students was impressive. The whole exercise had been a failure. His anger surged to the boiling point. Damn Woodward and his social engineering. The public status of guides was hardly the concern of Rainier University. Dr. Woodward had the status to force Sandburg down their collective throats, but right-thinking individuals, himself included, could not be kept down forever.

He tossed the tape into the basket on his desk. It had been worth a try, and there would be another attempt. He could plan more carefully. Little things would add up, as long as they continued to monitor the situation carefully. It was only a matter of time.

&&&&&

Even with the delay of taking Blair to breakfast, Jim still beat Simon and most of the task force members to the station. With nothing else to do, Jim pulled all the files on the Lazar organization. Paul Kinnick was mentioned frequently, but they'd never been able to nail him for anything. Both older brothers had done a stint in prison during their early days, but not Paul. When the elder brothers had met their demise, young Paul had moved into ever more increasing positions of responsibility.

He cornered Simon the moment the man arrived. They retired to the privacy of the captain's office.

"So he actually made direct contact. What's he offering?" Simon asked. 

"Financial records. Tapes of phone conversations, emails, the works. He claims to have incriminating evidence on every major player in the Lazar organization."

"Even our mystery man, Ruberto Lazar?"

"Especially Ruberto."

Simon gave a low whistle. "That would be a coup. Do you think he's credible, or are we being set up? I thought he always wanted to go slowly. What's changed?"

"He was with a girl, maybe college-age, who he called Molly. I'm running a discreet check on their relationship right now. His only pre-condition is that she goes into witness protection, and he was adamant about that. Made no sense at the time, but Sandburg talked to her. Apparently, she is the late Michael Kinnick's stepchild, and her mother is dead. Paul has stepped in and taken responsibility for her. For someone who's not a cop, Blair does a damn good job of getting information. I'm running a check on their relationship now."

"Why would he be so insistent on witness protection?" Simon asked.

"At this point, it's all hypothesis, but she mentioned that Ruberto had made a marriage proposal."

"And Kinnick maybe doesn't approve," Simon added. "Tough spot if you're part of the organization. The boss usually doesn't take 'no' for an answer."

"If it checks out, I say we deal," Jim said firmly. "A situation like this won't come up again. He'll make other arrangements." 

"I agree," said Simon, reaching for the phone. "Gather your files, and pull any of the old Lazar cases you think might be relevant. Let's see if we can get more information about the girl, if you think she's his primary motivation. I'll make the calls. We'll start the initial review as soon as I can get everyone here. Are you sure Kinnick knows we can't act immediately?"

"I explained it. He seems concerned about moving as soon as possible, but he understood, and agreed. He wants guarantees for Molly upfront. He says she has no ties to the organization; I tend to believe him. If that holds true, it costs us nothing to make guarantees for her safety."

Simon checked his watch. "It will take at least a couple hours to get everyone here. Pull all the help you need to get set up. Where's Sandburg? He's good at these things."

"I took him to the University, and I'll pick him up later this morning. I need to keep an eye on him, Simon." Jim briefly explained the circumstances surrounding Blair's tumble down the stairs.

"Not good, Jim. How banged up is he?"

"Worse than he'll ever let on. I need to be careful, Simon. He's pushing his limits, and we both know I need him."

"I hate to say it, but maybe he should back off at the University. After all, his job..."

Jim interrupted. "He has a job, but he also has a life. I don't want to compromise on this, Simon. He just got started again. I can't pull the rug out from under him. Not now. He trusts me, and that's been hard won. I won't put that in jeopardy."

"I understand, but you know how much I depend on you here. Under the circumstances, do whatever you think necessary. That includes leaving to take him home."

"Very good, sir," Jim said crisply. He hesitated, then turned back. 

Simon noticed he was still there. "Something on your mind, Jim?"

"Actually, there is. How should I say this? Do we have any say on who gets assigned from the DA's Office?"

"Some. Any reason we should care?"

"I was wondering if we could avoid Price. This is my case, and I've been warned he's rough on guides."

Simon considered the suggestion. "It's out of the ordinary, but you have a point. If Sandburg's already struggling, we don't need to make it worse. Besides, I can't stand the guy anyway. I have a few strings I can pull. I'll give it a shot."

"Thank you, sir."

Simon nodded, already dialing the first number he needed.

&&&&&

Blair checked the time, frustrated with how the morning was slipping away. This kind of research, pulling book after book from the shelves and skimming the pages, was tiring on the best of days. The aspirin Jim had forced on him had worn off a good hour ago. His body ached and his head was pounding. So far, his search had yielded nothing. He was becoming ever more convinced that the book he needed was in the Sentinel Section, or the GDP's own special collection, which was attached. 

For what it was worth, all the morning's futility had narrowed the possibilities down. Each failure had resurrected a few more details of fragmented memory until Blair had a pretty clear picture of what he was looking for. He was now certain it was a fluke that he'd seen the text in the first place. Volumes housed in the Sentinel Section were rarely released to general circulation, and the public was generally barred from physically entering past the reception area. Certain texts and manuscripts were often restricted exclusively for use by members of the Sentinel Institute or the GDP who were doing advanced academic research. The chances of Blair Sandburg, a guide, getting anywhere near those materials were essentially nonexistent.

Before Jim, before the GDP and the hell with Alex, when Blair had been just a regular student and not a guide, he'd spent plenty of hours on student work study jobs in the library. He'd been called in to help set up a special educational exhibit sponsored by the GDP. The job had made his skin crawl. An undiscovered empath, he avoided the GDP at all costs. Unfortunately, everyone knew he needed the money, and to turn down the hours would have aroused suspicion. During unpacking and setup, this particular book had caught Blair's eye, and he'd cautiously slipped away on his lunch break to read it thoroughly.

It was fascinating. It was a personal journal, written several hundred years before the rediscovery of the modern sentinel. He could remember that much, and not much else. If only there had been time to read it more closely. 

Blair shuddered. The gaps in his memory had filled in. The book had been sent in error; somehow mixed up with all the other materials that were part of the exhibit. He could remember the sour taste in his mouth when he realized that GDP officials were tearing the library apart, looking for the very volume that was spread open in his lap. He was nearly caught trying to return the delicate, leather-bound journal without being discovered himself. He'd been terrified, jumping at every strange voice for weeks afterwards.

So, if the book still existed, it was no doubt under lock and key somewhere in some restricted archive. Not the kind of thing you could request on inter-library loan. Blair was gnawing a fingernail in frustration when the cell phone jerked him back to reality. No doubt it was Jim. This particular wild goose chase would have to wait.

&&&&&

Jim wheeled into the parking lot closest to Hargrove Hall at breakneck speed. When he caught sight of Blair huddled on the bench used by students waiting for the bus, he wished he'd run the siren as well. Even at a distance, Blair looked like he'd had a tough morning. The set of his shoulders told the sentinel the bruised ribs were worse. He scanned quickly for pedestrians, then gunned the truck up to the curb and screeched to a stop. He was out of the cab opening the passenger door before Blair even pulled himself off the bench.

"That does it, Chief. We're going straight home."

"Take it easy, Jim. Don't overreact here," Blair protested. 

"Save your energy, Sandburg," Jim snapped. He gently pulled the backpack off Blair's shoulders. He watched calmly as his guide's hand tightened around the strap and then released, apparently giving up on any thoughts of playing tug-of-war. "Good choice, buddy," Jim added softly, as he placed the pack on the sidewalk. "You should have called me when you started feeling this bad. And why didn't you stay in your office? The last thing you needed to do was traipse across campus in the rain."

"Jim, don't be that way," Blair pleaded. "I felt fine until just a little while ago. Really. Besides, weren't you with the task force? No way I'd interrupt that meeting.

"No, I wasn't with the task force, and I really don't care who or what you interrupt," Jim answered angrily, raising his voice. "You need me, you call, no matter what." He immediately softened his tone when Blair's shoulders hunched and he rubbed fretfully at his temple. "I'm not mad at you, Chief. You banged down a whole flight of stairs. Give yourself a break once in awhile. I called for some takeout. We can pick it up on the way."

"What are we eating?" He gave Jim a weak grin. "If you called it in, it isn't WonderBurger."

"Deli. I got you a salad, a sandwich and one of those gooey frosted cookies you pretend not to like."

"I won't argue." Blair wearily closed his eyes, slumping in the seat. "You're right, Jim. I should have laid low in my office." 

"Well, that's something. Next time, don't be such an eager beaver. Whatever was in the library could have waited." They rode in silence for a few blocks. "You want to go in, or just pick it up?" Jim asked.

"Pick up," Blair said, without opening his eyes. "We've got to be running late. I really should have hopped on the bus. You've wasted a good forty minutes doing nothing but driving around."

"It's not a big deal. It took Simon forever to put a meeting together. I didn't do much other than background."

"Really?" Blair pushed himself into a seated position. Jim could feel the pulse of worry under the fatigue. "I thought - well, isn't the point of the task force to have a quick response? Did I get something mixed up?"

"Take it easy, Chief. It's not a big deal. Under normal circumstances, you'd be right. This case isn't typical. Kinnick walked in on his own without being part of an on-going investigation. No one was expecting it, including me. When things are geared up, the task force can meet within the hour. This wasn't one of those times."

"Since I haven't been through one of these, what would usually happen?" 

"We'd have a suspicion that we were getting some action. A case would be breaking, or negotiations would be in progress. The task force is in full operation only when there's an active case. It takes awhile for everyone to shift gears. Some of the lead members were in court. We're geared up for this afternoon."

"Oh, okay. Maybe we could just go in? Salad never tastes as good in cardboard, if you know what I mean."

Jim snorted. "Sure. I need to keep working on you. All that green doesn't taste like much, period, cardboard or not." He pulled into a parking spot.

&&&&&

Paul Kinnick backed up each file, meticulous as always. His elder brothers, especially Michael, had always emphasized the importance of keeping accurate records. It was just good business. To be brutally honest, if your business was extortion, so much the better. His brothers, especially Michael, had taught him, protected him, and ultimately given him a place in the Lazar organization. It was a good thing to be the younger brother of Michael and Lawrence Kinnick. Before their untimely deaths, Michael had been the brains and Lawrence had been the muscle. Michael was shrewd, always aware of subtle changes within the organization, carefully positioning himself and his brothers to their best advantage. 

When the Lazar family had been nearly crushed by the Cascade PD, Michael had represented stability amidst the chaos. The newly arriving Ruberto Lazar had relied on Michael immediately, praised his loyalty and tenacity. Michael had increased his standing, and taken Paul with him.

It had earned his beloved brother four bullets in the back, and orphaned his step-daughter.

Paul slipped another disk in. Computer use was monitored. He'd set up the system himself. He carefully filled only a disk or two a day, concealing his efforts as normal routine. It was slow and dangerous. Download too much in one day, and someone could get suspicious, look a little more closely at his activities. He knew many of Ruberto Lazar's secrets, but Ruberto didn't really trust anyone around him. The next few weeks would be a careful balance of negotiation, concealment and betrayal, not too fast, not too slow.

He wondered what Michael would think. If it meant protecting Molly, he hoped his beloved elder brother would approve.

&&&&&

William Douglas Price adjusted his tie and grabbed his coat. He was on a roll today. Two successful plea bargains and a favorable ruling from the Grand Jury made for a good morning. To top it off, he'd have an easy, if boring, afternoon reviewing the cases being prepared by his assistants. He'd have plenty of time for a leisurely lunch.

He stopped at his secretary's desk. "Are all my appointments confirmed for the afternoon?"

"Yes, sir. All except Mr. Nedoma. He's sending his files with his assistant."

"Like hell he is."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Price." The woman quailed under his angry gaze, flipping through her notes. "He was reassigned to a new case."

"What new case? There isn't any new case!"

"Well," she stammered, "I guess it happened this morning, rather suddenly. I think they may have mentioned something about the task force."

Price went deathly still. 

Task force cases involved a lot of backbreaking work, but of you were careful, there was an occasional plum. W. D. Price was careful. He made a point of taking the cream of the crop for himself. "Why wasn't I notified? You could have reached me easily enough."

His secretary cringed. "Mr. Price, I don't know anything about this. Maybe I heard Mr. Nedoma's office wrong," she added hopefully.

Price walked away without a word. The little idiot. Probably away from her desk when the call came in. He marched into an office at the end of the hallway without bothering to knock. "What's this about a task force case, Phillips?" he demanded. "Who gave it to Nedoma without me seeing it first?"

Jason Phillips looked up grimly from his desk. "Hello to you, too," he answered, clearly annoyed with the man barging into his office. He pushed back in his chair. "Case came in this morning, very last minute. We don't have any details. You weren't here, and Nedoma just wrapped up his primaries."

"You should have sent it to me first. I always review task force cases before they're assigned."

"Quit posturing, Price. They're supposed to go in the rotation, and you know it. You were out, and they needed someone. Nedoma was available. Look, don't get all fired up. There's no on-going investigation. For all I know, it's a simple review."

"Call Nedoma and tell him I'm taking it."

Phillips shook his head. "He's already on his way over."

"So? Get him on the cell. I'm taking it."

"Why bother? Let Nedoma have it. We've all got plenty of work. Besides, you don't know anything about it. It could be a dog."

"If it is, I'll hand it off. Now call him."

Phillips looked at the sea of papers on his desk. "I have court in less than an hour. I don't have the time or energy to argue with you. Call Nedoma yourself, if you want it so bad. Just get out of my office so I can get back to work."

Price rolled his eyes as the door slammed hard enough to rattle the windows.

&&&&&

"Simon, we're on our way out."

"I'll be right down. Got to take this one," Simon answered. He waved his detective along, returning to his last minute phone call. 

Jim was moderately satisfied. He'd convinced Sandburg to take more aspirin with lunch. The food and the painkiller had boosted his guide's energy level considerably. The disagreeable task of preparing the briefing materials had gone much faster with Blair around. All that was left was to set up the conference room, and they had just enough time to manage that.

They were headed that direction when the call came in to Jim's desk. "Hold on a sec, Chief. Ellison," he said tersely. "Yes. That's right. Absolutely we'd be interested. Can you send it up? We're going to be starting in about fifteen minutes. Damn." He looked up, covering the receiver. "It's Narcotics. They think they've got a case that's pertinent. Can you set up while I run down there?"

"Sure, Jim. No problem." Blair waited patiently while Jim added his share to the stack of papers he already carried in his arms. 

"Get Rhonda..." Jim was already out the door as his voice trailed off. Blair headed toward the conference room. Jim was way overprotective. There was no need to bother Rhonda. He was perfectly capable of spreading a few papers around a conference table.

The room they were using was just down the hall from Major Crime, but it was a secure area. Blair waited tensely as the uniformed officer checked his ID, willing himself to relax. Even at the station, where his face was becoming recognizable, he was never certain of his reception when meeting someone new. His Observer's Pass clearly identified him as a guide, but it just as clearly identified him as Jim Ellison's guide. Even if someone was inclined to hassle a guide working alone, most were smart enough not to antagonize Detective Ellison. 

The officer eyed him suspiciously. "I guess you can go in," he said, tossing the pass back across the desk. "You're sure your sentinel will be right here?"

"Yes, officer. He's on his way. He had to make a stop in Narcotics first." Blair kept his eyes downward. Most people would take offense if a guide had the temerity to act like a citizen and carry on the conversation eye to eye. There was no sense in provoking anyone. He clipped the badge back onto his collar. Jim never made him bother wearing it openly when they were in the bullpen, but this was more public. Once again, Blair was grateful his sentinel had insisted that the rogue marking be removed from his badge.

He couldn't completely suppress a shudder when he stepped into the narrow, windowless conference room. It brought back images of other closed rooms, ones filled with GDP officers and endless questions and pain.

Blair set the stack of paperwork down. Live in the present, not in the past. He shut out everything except the task at hand.

&&&&&

Simon stood by his desk, fidgeting impatiently while this last-minute call went through. He was anxious to get a look at the supporting materials Ellison had pulled together. Paul Kinnick could turn out to be a huge break in their war against the Lazar family. He wished he could put this off until later, but since he'd already begged a favor from Jason Phillips today, it would be rude not to take the call.

__

"Simon? It's Jason Phillips. Hey, I did my best, but there's been a change of plan."

"Don't tell me we have to reschedule. I really think we need to move on this."

__

"You wish. The meeting's still on. Look, I sent you a good guy..."

"Nedoma, right? You said he was sentinel and guide savvy. So, what's the problem?"

__

"Well, I tried, anyway. The problem is Price found out somehow and decided he wants the case."

"Jason, I thought we had this worked out."

__

"Between you and me we did. Price put his foot in it and I wasn't in a position to fight him without making it an official request, and we both agreed we wanted to avoid that. I know your sentinel may be touchy, but Price doesn't violate any procedures when he deals with guides. 

"He separates them from their sentinels and banishes them to a glorified holding cell. He keeps them on their knees for hours in his presence. Shall I go on?"

__

Guide isolation is a normal GDP procedure, and so is kneeling. Being a jerk about it isn't officially a problem. I don't have a leg to stand on. I'm sorry, Simon."

"All right. We'll live with it. Thanks for the heads up."

__

"Shit, don't thank me too much. He was going to try to catch Nedoma en route. He'll probably crash the meeting today. Don't be surprised."

"In that case, I'd better move. I know you tried, Jason, and I appreciate it."

Simon hustled out of his office. Jim's desk was already empty, as expected. He'd gone on ahead, as planned. He wanted to warn Jim that their attempt to avoid Price had failed, and he didn't want to do it in front of Sandburg. "Rhonda, did Jim leave with Sandburg?"

His pretty secretary smiled. "No, sir. I think he sent Blair to the conference room, but Jim had to run down to Narcotics."

"Call down there, will you, and tell him to stay put. I need to have a word."

"Yes, sir. What if I don't catch him? Captain Banks?" Rhonda shook her head as her boss vanished before she could question him further. Whatever had Simon hot and bothered, he apparently didn't want to take time to formulate a Plan B.

&&&&&

"Who are you?"

Blair jumped at the sound of the harsh voice. A tall, dark-haired man was standing in the doorway, wearing an extremely expensive suit and an unfriendly glare.

"Where's your authorization?" the man barked, moving across the room aggressively. "This is a restricted area. What's your name? Answer me!"

Blair took a step back and stopped. Every instinct screamed at him to bolt, but this angry man was between him and the door. Besides, he had every right to be here. "Blair Sandburg. I'm attached to Major Crime."

"Which still doesn't explain why you're in here alone." The man's voice rose to a shout. "Now answer me!"

"Detective Ellison and Captain Banks are on their way," Blair explained quietly. The internal battle raged: slip to his knees like a well-trained guide or behave like anyone else. Blair held his ground, not speaking further. The man was crowding into his personal space. He was trying to think of something to defuse the confrontation when he realized the man was staring at his identification. The blow across the jaw caught him totally by surprise.

"A guide?" the stranger screamed. "They let a guide in here with sensitive information? Alone?" Blair was knocked backwards, dazed. The bitter tang of blood was on his tongue. A second shove bounced his head off the wall and sent him to the floor. He tried to struggle to his feet, torn between trying to explain, fighting back, or fleeing. A vicious kick into the already sore ribs sent him down. "On your knees! You get on your knees and stay there." A heavy foot shoved his face to the floor. "I'll get to the bottom of this."

It was too much. This man hated, passionately. The intensity of the emotion crushed his barriers, still fragile from the previous twenty-four hours. Awareness fled to a place where there was no shouting, no anger, no pain. Blair went still as a trickle of blood pooled on the floor below him. He didn't see, didn't hear - didn't care.

&&&&&

Jim heard the exchange in the conference room as he and Simon left the elevator. He took off at a dead run. Simon barely had time to catch the furious sentinel before total mayhem ensued.

"Let me have him!" Jim snarled. "Blair's hurt - there's blood." He shoved Simon aside, hell-bent on the conference room and nothing else.

It took every inch of Simon Banks' six foot four frame to pin his detective to the wall and keep him there. "I will handle this," he shouted. He wasn't getting Jim's attention. "Jim! Listen to me! I will handle it!"

Mercifully, the uproar had brought half of Major Crime pounding down the hallway. "Keep him here, Brown," Simon snapped, carefully releasing Jim to the bigger man. "Rafe, get Sentinel Edwards, or Dr. Harvey. Any sentinel you can find." He headed into to the conference room, brushing past the security guard. Someone was raging at him before he cleared the threshold.

"My God, Banks, this is beyond the pale. What are you thinking? Letting a guide anywhere near an important case? Walking around in plain view, handling the case materials? Where's his sentinel?"

Sandburg was on the floor. District Attorney Price was standing over him, a foot resting on the young man's neck. Simon could barely contain his anger. Right now, he was tempted to turn Ellison loose, and join in with him. This idiot was in his department, abusing one of his people.

"Get away from him," Simon said coldly, trying to keep his temper under control.

"What?" Price gave him an incredulous look. "Don't be ridiculous. Get some security in here. This one ought to be taken straight to the correction facility."

Simon cringed. Ellison was no doubt listening to every word. A statement like that would send him over the edge, not to mention the effect it would have on Sandburg. "I said get away from him. Move away or I'll move you myself."

"Are you serious?" Something must have finally registered, since Price took a few steps backward. "This is an outrage. Don't you people have any procedures? Who knows what that creature would tell, and to whom? Talk about a security risk."

"Right now the only one at risk is you," Simon growled. "Unless you want to be the object of a sentinel vendetta, back off and shut up. I don't have time for you right now." 

Simon knelt close to Blair, careful not to touch him. "Sandburg? Blair? Jim's here, but if I turn him loose, he'll tear the place apart." Simon could detect no response from the huddled form. "Can you hear me, kid? Can you make it out the door? Jim's right there." Still nothing. Simon changed tactics. "Jim needs you. I'll help you up. Just reach out and take my arm." Simon slid his elbow out, in easy reach. "Come on, Blair. You can. I know you can."

Slowly, fingers curled around his wrist. Simon rose, ever-so-slowly, letting Blair slump against him. "Just a few steps, kid, and then Jim can take care of you. That's it." Blair was on his feet and moving. Somehow, the group outside the room must have known. A grim faced, but controlled Jim Ellison was waiting at the door. Jim gathered Blair in, whispering soothing words as he did.

With Jim occupied, at least temporarily, Simon turned his attention to Price. He crossed the room and spoke in a low, angry voice. "I don't care who you are. This is Major Crime. It's my show, and in this department, no guide kneels on duty."

Price gave him a scornful look. "You are out of your mind. You should be thanking me for dispensing some badly needed discipline to a guide. Like I said, he ought to be sent for correction, not coddled. You don't leave a guide wandering around without his sentinel like that."

"Price, I'm going to say this once. When you're here, you follow our procedures. Any guide assigned to a Major Crime sentinel is part of our team, and treated with respect. If they feel the need to act independently, they do it. No kneeling. No abuse. From now on, don't you ever forget it. And never, I mean never, lay a hand on any of our personnel again."

"You cannot be serious," Price sputtered. "Empaths are by nature unstable. They're an inherent security risk. I won't have it."

"This case originated in Major Crime, and it will be pursued with our resources. You're welcome to remove yourself if it's too much for you."

"We'll see about this," Price countered.

"We certainly will," Simon answered, still seething. "Rafe? You and Brown show our good prosecutor to his seat, or out the door, if he so chooses. We'll get started in five minutes."

"No problem, Captain." Henri Brown pulled out a chair and waited until the man reluctantly sat down. "We'll be happy to keep an eye on our - guest," he added with just a touch of menace.

Simon found Jim in the bull pen, carefully dabbing at the corner of Blair's mouth where Price's first blow had fallen. Sentinel Edwards was nearby. His guide, David, had a chair pulled up close to Blair's. "Jim?" Simon asked tentatively. "How's he doing?"

"I'm here, Captain," Blair said. "I'm fine."

Simon shook his head. "Excuse me, Sandburg, but you look anything but fine."

Blair didn't answer. Instead, he reached up and gently took the handkerchief Jim was using out of his sentinel's hand. "It was just a shock. If you can get Jim to stop mother-henning, I'll manage. No problem."

"No way, Chief. I'm taking you home. Right after I pulverize that fool."

"Other than the pulverize part, I agree," Simon added firmly, keeping Jim's earlier concerns in mind. Despite the tough talk, the kid's pallor worried him. Besides, getting Jim out of the building and away from Price had merits of its own. "Jim can take you home right now, Sandburg." 

"And just how are you going to have a briefing on Jim's case without Jim there?" Blair asked tartly. 

"That's not your concern," Jim said.

"Of course it is," Blair replied with a weary shake of his head. "I'm supposed to help you do your job, not keep you from it."

"Don't be ridiculous," Jim said. "This isn't open for debate."

"No, it's not. But I'm asking anyway." Blair's expression was set, but his eyes were pleading. "I need to do this. I can't let him win. I can't let any of them win. Please, Jim." 

No one in the room missed the set of Blair's jaw, or his tone. This was important to him. Blair would be humiliated to leave under these circumstances.

"With your permission, Sentinel Ellison?" It was David. Simon was slightly shocked. He wasn't sure he'd ever heard the young man speak without being addressed directly through his sentinel. "I believe Sentinel Edwards was going to assist with the briefing? Perhaps, if Blair and I were seated near each other, I can provide additional support if it becomes necessary." He kept his eyes on Edwards, his voice hesitant. "We'll be discreet, of course," he added, as if that were important. Simon wondered if this represented new behavior for David. Whatever the circumstances, Edwards seemed to approve.

Simon sensed it was time for him to step in. "I'll have things arranged exactly as you say. Will seating by the doorway be acceptable, Jim?"

Jim nodded. "I know when I'm beat," he said. "We'll need a moment, sir." He laid a hand gently on his guide's head and pulled him close.

"Of course. Edwards and I can get things rolling." As they left, Simon could just hear Jim murmur, "Damn you, Sandburg. Talk about stubborn. We'll do it your way, but we're out of there in a heartbeat if there are any problems."

&&&&&

"If we're all in agreement, that will be all." Simon waited for the confirming nods around the room. "Make whatever arrangements are necessary in your respective areas."

The conference room started to empty out. Simon breathed a sigh of relief. Considering the rocky start, the briefing had gone remarkably well. The task force had agreed with their own assessment - Kinnick was pure gold if they could pull it off.

The best news was that Nedoma had showed up, unaware that the senior prosecutor intended to upstage him. The internal politics of the prosecutor's office normally wasn't Simon's concern, but mercifully Price had departed and Nedoma had stayed. The reversal might not be permanent, but it made the immediate issues go more smoothly.

He waited until the room was empty except for himself, the two sentinels and their guides. Normally, Simon would have been hesitant to include Edwards on a case of this prominence. The man had just transferred to Major Crime. He had a great record, but Simon didn't have the confidence in him that came with a long working relationship. On the plus side, Ellison seemed totally comfortable with him. That would have to be assurance enough.

"Since we have clearance to proceed, we need to contact Kinnick. How do you want to handle it, Jim?"

"Separate secure communication, for one thing. This is too big to route anything through our phone systems, no matter how well disguised they are. Nedoma said he'd prepare the paperwork for Molly himself. No other eyes."

"Kinnick won't want incriminating paperwork around," Simon commented.

"I'll take care of that," Edwards offered. "Maybe a safe deposit box."

"I'll arrange another meeting with Kinnick," Jim said. "At some point, he'll need to meet Edwards and David, since one of us will be on twenty-four hour call while this runs its course, but that doesn't have to happen immediately."

"Timing?" Simon asked.

Jim considered that. "Soon, but not immediate, I think. I got the feeling that now he's made the decision, he'll collect what he wants to bring out very deliberately. Kinnick's smart, and he's careful."

"We don't want to rush him," Simon replied. "The more he brings out, the better. Keep me informed."

The sentinels departed, their guides in tow. Simon took a moment, standing there alone, to reflect on how complicated being a captain got sometimes.

&&&&&

Secure phone communications were the kind of thing you arranged in person. Jim kept a close eye on his guide, not totally convinced all was well. The technician assigned to them was experienced and highly professional. The arrangements took half the time Jim expected. They headed back to the bull pen.

"That went really well," Jim commented. Blair just nodded. His guide's lack of chatter was beginning to worry him. "You feeling okay, Chief?" he asked.

They were standing by the elevators. "I'm fine, Jim." He hesitated, and then asked, "Do we have anything else big? If I hustle, I can grab the bus back to Rainier and make my seminar class."

Jim did a double-take. He'd been so involved with the case, he'd forgotten Blair's schedule. "That was stupid," he said. "I should have remembered you had a class earlier. You didn't need to follow me around setting up telephones. Change of plan. I'll run you over and come back."

Blair started to protest, and Jim overruled him, pushing the down button impatiently. "Sandburg, I expected to be down here for another hour at least. You've got your stuff. Let's go." 

Jim set off at his usual pace. Not halfway to the truck, he realized Blair was lagging behind. The difference in their strides was a running joke, but Blair normally kept pace without a problem. When they pulled into downtown traffic, Blair started rummaging around the glove compartment. Jim watched silently as he dug out the bottle of aspirin Jim kept there for his own headaches and downed two tablets. He started to put the bottle back, and abruptly opened it again and swallowed a third. Jim was shocked.

The usual chatter was still missing. Not only that, Blair was completely ignoring him. He was almost hugging the ever-present backpack. His head drooped.

They were stopped at a light. Jim scanned his guide thoroughly. The breathing was slow and even. He suspected Blair was consciously regulating it. "Chief, look at me." 

That did it. Not even Sandburg could hide the dull, tired eyes. The gash across his cheek looked worse. The left side of his face was slightly puffy from Price's blow, and the cut at the edge of his mouth was noticeable. His guide looked like he'd been mugged. For all intents and purposes, he had been. Enough was enough.

Jim flipped the cell phone open. "Simon? Jim. Change in plan. Have Taggert or Brown bring a secure cell phone over to the loft as soon as communications finishes up. The guy's name is Walker. I'll make the calls from there. What? Price again? No, it's just not possible. I don't care what customary is, or what he wants, sir. All that matters is that the call to Kinnick is on a secure line. Price doesn't need to hear it in person. Sure, he can overrule me. Let him make the call himself and see how long it takes Kinnick to withdraw the offer and vanish into thin air."

"Jim!" Blair hissed. "What are you doing? Don't you do that on my account."

Jim waved him off impatiently. "I know what I'm doing, Simon. You send the communications I need, and set things up on the safe house end, just in case. Edwards can do that as well as I can. And tell that idiot Price to let us do our jobs. He's not a cop. Yeah, you can quote me on that one, sir. I'll be in touch." He disconnected the call and tossed the cell onto the bench seat.

Blair watched him warily. "You shouldn't have done that, Jim. You can't risk an operation because I was clumsy and fell down the stairs, or can't make it through the day without a disaster."

Jim reached over and gently rubbed the back of Blair's neck. "A little change of location isn't going to make a bit of difference. Besides, the really tough part of this little exercise will come over the next few weeks, when we get Kinnick out, not immediately. That's when I'll need all my sentinel senses, and I need you sharp to do that. This is just harboring the resources for the appropriate time." He gave Blair what he hoped was an encouraging smile. "Now quit fussing and try to relax." 

"I really need to go to this class."

"Chief, if this was a class you were teaching, I'd go sit with you if you needed me to. This is your seminar, right? Dr. Woodward will understand."

"I can't miss stuff. I just can't. You don't understand."

Traffic started to move. Jim turned away from the University and toward the loft. He hated conflict with Blair on this level. He couldn't think of anything to say, and he wouldn't change Blair's mind if he did. Instead, he looked ahead stonily, using silence to avoid arguing further with his guide. 

He was worried on a number of levels. He was certain that Blair's header down the stairs hadn't been an accident. That in and of itself was a concern, but it also indicated that the opposition to Blair's placement at Rainier hadn't abated, whether his guide was telling him about it or not. The scene with Price just reminded Jim that their pairing ran counter to everything - the GDP, social customs, commonly accepted prejudices about empaths and guides in general. Blair was always philosophical about obstacles thrown in his path than he was. In contrast to his guide, he got angry, and raged against the system, or the immediate threat, demanding others change their ways. Blair's solution was to just work harder and prove them all wrong.

Work harder for how long, and at what cost?

&&&&&

Simon hung up the phone. On balance, he should have let Ellison dismember Price. It would have saved everyone a lot of time and irritation.

At this point, it wasn't clear if the case would be given to Nedoma or Price. Nedoma was doing the immediate work and Price was acting like he was in charge of the case, the DA's office, Major Crime and the rest of the known universe.

Jim was right. It wouldn't compromise anything to route communications out of the loft. They would have something there eventually under any circumstances. Even if it was never needed, it was simply prudent to have a mechanism in place that allowed Kinnick to make contact at any time. So what if they set it up that way to begin with? Price would just have to live with it.

Simon realized this little dust-up was the symptom, not the cause. The real issue was Ellison setting the sentinel world on its ear. Simon pulled out his dog-eared copy of Sentinel 101 out of his desk drawer. At one time, he'd believed that all he needed to know about sentinels was between its covers.

What a shock. Between the lies and the half-truths from the GDP, and Ellison's penchant for bucking the system, half the time he had no idea what to do. To make it worse, there was no one to ask for advice. It would have been a lot easier if Sentinel 101 had been fact and not fiction, and all the nice little round pegs went in nice little round holes.

He picked up the transfer request that had just come in the inter-departmental mail. Another sentinel and guide pairing was asking to transfer to Major Crime. If they only knew how lost he really was, maybe they wouldn't be so eager.

&&&&&

"Jim, you don't need to be in full hover mode. Really, I'm perfectly capable of getting up and eating." Blair hopped up off of the couch. "What am I saying? It's the middle of the afternoon. Why are we eating in the first place? I don't need food and I don't need to be here. I need to go to class."

Jim shook his head. He set the tray on the coffee table and handed a mug of hot soup to Blair. "Please don't argue with me anymore. If you can be stubborn, well, I can do stubborn, too. I want you to take these, too."

Blair eyed the tablets resting on the napkin. "No way. I'll take the vitamins, but I don't need a pain pill."

"I swear, Sandburg, try to remember I hear what your body says, not just what comes out of your mouth. Do you want to take them with your tea, or should I get something else for you?"

Blair accepted the handful of pills, but continued to protest. "That stupid pain pill makes me sleepy. I have stuff to do. If you're going to keep me here and not go to class, I at least need to grade."

Jim sighed. "It's just one afternoon. I'll hand over the backpack as soon as you finish your food. For now it's a hostage, and I'm the kidnapper."

Twenty minutes later, Jim was waiting outside the doorway to the loft before Henri Brown cleared the elevator. "Thanks, H. I'd have you in, but Sandburg's asleep." Jim couldn't stop the smile. His plan had worked perfectly. You had to get Sandburg to slow down before you could accomplish anything. Serving comfort food with his feet up on the couch had done the trick.

"He sick or something, Jim? Aside from that jerk Price?"

"No, not really. We had that chaos today, and he took a fall after class last night, and he's a little bruised up. It all just takes a lot of energy. You know how it is." 

"Uh, Jim... I'm officially off duty for a couple of hours. Is there anything you'd like me to check out for you?" Henri gave him a look that said more than his actual words.

Had the offer come sooner, Jim would have gone for it. As it was, beating around Rainier asking questions might be counter productive at this point. It was gratifying to know the other members of Major Crime were nearly as protective of Sandburg as he was. "I think we got it covered, H, but thanks for the offer," Jim said, and then caught himself short. "Hold up for a sec."

With a watchful eye on Sandburg, Jim retrieved Blair's daily planner from his backpack. He'd remembered correctly. Dr. Woodward's seminar ended at four. That was a true stroke of good fortune. Jim scribbled some information on a scrap of paper and hustled back to the door. Blair was still sleeping soundly.

"Would you mind stopping by the University and letting Dr. Woodward know why Sandburg isn't there?"

"Dr. Woodward? Yeah, I talked with him once. Seemed like a nice guy. I bet he'll even get the class notes for Hairboy, since he won't be there."

"He probably will. Thanks again, Brown."

Henri started toward the elevator and turned back. "Why do I think that Sandburg didn't just fall down all by himself? You sure there isn't anything else you want me to ask about, Jim?"

Jim's eyes narrowed. With everything else going on, he still had his suspicions about Blair's so-called 'accident'. "Yeah," he answered. "Just ask Dr. Woodward about the class Blair had to cover last night. It was kind of last-minute, if you get my drift."

"No problem, man. What's the point of having friends who are detectives if you don't use them?"

Jim shut the door quietly. Sandburg was still sleeping, and the pain medication had worked it magic. Blair was breathing easily, no longer restricted by his bruised and aching ribs. His color even looked a little better. 

Jim retreated to the kitchen to set up the equipment. He needed to make his call. 

&&&&&

"Jim?"

"Yeah, Chief?"

"What time is it? How long have I been asleep?" Blair was trying to disentangle himself from the wool throw Jim had carefully tucked around him. 

"Slow down, Sandburg. The equipment came, and I contacted Kinnick. Everything else is being taken care of. Brown went to the University and talked to Dr. Woodward for both of us. There's a message on the answering machine for you. I would have talked with him myself, but I was kind of occupied."

"I can't just miss class like that!" Blair made starts in several directions before finally dashing for the answering machine. He played the message twice, but even Dr. Woodward's promise to copy the lecture notes and make arrangements for Blair's classes the following day if he needed it didn't seem to calm him.

Jim dismissed all his other concerns, of which there were many. "Sandburg, what's going on? Dr. Woodward's been great whenever something like this has come up, and he's being more than supportive now. What aren't you telling me?"

"Jim, I'm not deceiving you," Blair said slowly. "I wouldn't do that."

Neither man closed the distance between them. Jim considered the statement for a moment. "I believe you, Chief," he said quietly. He chose his next words carefully. "You wouldn't lie to me. On that score, I trust you completely. However, you might forget to mention a few things now and then. It's time to come clean, buddy."

Blair sank into a chair and suddenly developed an overwhelming interest in his stocking feet. Jim stayed where he was. Something told him that Sandburg needed to do this on his own terms.

"It's nothing, really. You know most of it. Sometimes, things get messed up. It's probably just a coincidence. We've been over all of this before, Jim."

"If it's just the same old, same old, why are you so upset?" he asked shrewdly.

"I'm not sure, exactly. It's just that - sometimes, it feels kind of organized."

"The harassment?"

"Yeah, if it should even be called that. I shouldn't even mention it. A lot of stuff just happens. It's random. Someone makes a rude comment, some GDP officer just eyes me enough to let me know he's there. A few of the professors are openly hostile, but I can handle that."

"You mean like Dr. Higgins, the one who yelled at you in the library?"

"Yeah. But..." Blair's voice trailed off.

"But what?"

"I'm not really sure. I just have the feeling that some of the other faculty members are actively working against me, but they're not overt or anything. It makes my skin crawl. I feel like all the little things are being watched - stuff like this that Dr. Woodward thinks is no big deal, but someone else could tally it up and make it seem like a big deal."

"And you didn't tell me." Jim wasn't asking a question. He was stating a fact. "Why?"

Blair shuffled his feet, clearly miserable. "Because there wasn't really anything to say. I'm just being paranoid. We have so many other obvious things to worry about." His shoulders slumped even further. "I'm so much trouble anyway. No one would blame you if you called this whole thing off."

"Sandburg, you need to listen to me." Jim came close to the seated man. He wanted to touch him, reassure him, but he needed Blair to listen, not just feel. "You're an empath, a strong one. Your instincts are highly accurate. I don't have any doubts that you've got the situation pegged. There's only one thing you need to do different. Stop second-guessing Dr. Woodward's support, or mine. We're in this for the long haul. You can't keep killing yourself trying to be perfect, or make everything around you perfect. No one is. Some idiot with a list of picky shit like missed classes when you're attending your sentinel isn't going to be able to touch you." Jim finally reached out and ran a hand gently over his guide's still bent head. "Trust me, the way I trust you."

&&&&&

Dr. Robert Woodward gathered up his evening reading and headed for the Anthro office. It was tempting to head straight home. He could easily put off copying his seminar notes until tomorrow, but Blair Sandburg was often in early. To have the notes waiting in his box might reassure the young man. It wasn't as if skipping a single session when his guide duties called was the crisis of the century.

He'd missed Sandburg this afternoon. The seminar participants were all better-than-average students, but discussion seemed to lag when Blair wasn't there. He was more convinced than ever that Sandburg was an asset to the department, both as a student and as a teacher.

Woodward was thoughtful as he fed the handwritten sheets into the copier. Detective Brown was a colleague of Sentinel Ellison. Obviously, his questions this afternoon weren't casual. He was certainly asking on behalf of Ellison. If the detective was curious, he certainly had a reason, whether Blair had said anything or not. He'd really need to get to the bottom of the whole situation.

The entire anthro faculty had been clearly informed that Sandburg's guide duties were to be accommodated. He'd done it himself, in person. On that basis alone, Blair should have been the last one asked to fill in for a night class. It was nowhere near his turn in the rotation, either. Woodward knew for a fact that Sandburg had covered two sessions of Anthro 101 last week while Detective Ellison had been in court. So, why had Manning asked him anyway? Manning wasn't even the faculty supervisor for that course. Why had he been involved at all?

To make matters even more troubling, Woodward was positive he'd seen Ken Taylor, the course instructor, relaxing in the grad student lounge just before the class would have started. He certainly hadn't seemed ill, and he wasn't in a hurry to go anywhere.

He certainly had the authority to demand an explanation from either Taylor or Manning, but his instincts told him that a subtle approach might be more productive. He'd start with the department secretary in the morning.

&&&&&

Jim was up before the sun. He heard Blair stirring as he turned off the shower, and regretted waking the younger man so early. Sandburg had a full day of school ahead of him, and certainly could have used another hour of sleep. The poor guy could probably use another day of sleep.

When he emerged from the bathroom, he could smell the coffee. Blair was sitting at the counter, wrapped in a robe. His hair was sticking out in all directions, and he didn't look terribly rested. Jim frowned when he realized the cut on his cheek from the broken glasses looked red and inflamed.

"Morning, Chief. You could have stayed in bed, you know."

Blair yawned. "I have stuff to do." He took another long sip of coffee. "I just need to finish waking up."

"Right. Take a look at me." Jim ran a finger gently along the cut. To his sensitive touch, it felt hot and swollen. "I should have watched this more carefully yesterday. We need to put some antibiotic cream on it."

"Does it look bad?" Blair asked. Then he shrugged, as Jim headed for the bathroom. "Well, I guess it already looked bad. Does it look worse?" Jim returned, antibiotic ointment in hand. Not a chance he'd leave this for later. "Hey, did I tell you that Molly asked if my sentinel had disciplined me?"

A dead silence followed. Jim dabbed some ointment along the cut. "I wish you wouldn't joke about stuff like that," he said seriously. "It's the damn GDP that perpetuates ideas like that. Does it sting?"

"A little. No big deal. She didn't mean anything by it, and neither did I."

"I know. I still don't like it. How are the ribs?"

Blair snorted. "That you definitely wouldn't like. I look kind of scary. Technicolor bruises. I still feel like a total idiot."

Jim poured his own mug of coffee. He stood, leaning against the counter. "Chief, I think you may have had some help on that score."

"What do you mean? I trip over my own feet just fine."

Jim shook his head. "Chief, all teasing aside, you're not clumsy. I heard footsteps, going the other direction. Someone either saw you fall and didn't come to help, or they knocked you off balance in the first place."

"I... I would have known." Blair expression looked stricken. 

"Maybe, but be honest. You weren't in real good shape. I know it's a point of pride for you, but that was too long for you to be on your own. You should have turned the class down, or I should have come by." One look at Blair's face and Jim knew he needed to say more. "Now don't take this wrong. We haven't had a chance to discuss this. I spoke with David and Edwards the night I went to dinner. I want to make things easier for you, Blair. I asked them for suggestions."

Blair looked down, not meeting Jim's eyes. "I'm not upset, not really. David and Sentinel Edwards are friends. I know you meant well. I just feel uncomfortable, being discussed. I guess it really shouldn't bother me. Everywhere I go, people say things behind my back. Don't look so surprised. I can't hear it like you can, but I can feel it."

That statement took Jim's breath away. He knew only too well the hurt created by hearing words not intended for your ears. The thought that Blair had similar experiences had never occurred to him. "I can relate. Can I tell you what Edwards and David said anyway?

Blair didn't answer. Finally, he gave Jim a weak nod.

"They understand, for one thing. David talked about how hard it was when they left the Marines and went to the force. The public setting interfered with their ability to connect. They make time to be alone during a shift. I think we should, too."

"I can make this work, Jim." He still wouldn't meet Jim's eyes.

"That's not the point. I know you can. I'd never question that. I just want to make it easier. You know, the old work smarter, not harder. You work harder than anyone I know already. There isn't any more 'harder'. We need to find 'smarter' instead."

Blair's voice caught. He wasn't listening. "I can make it work," he repeated quietly. "I can."

Without really meaning to, Jim moved closer. "I've got to explain this better. Look, neither of us prepared ahead of time for our bonding. I've kept the same workaholic schedule I always had. By any objective measure, it's stupid."

"My job is to be with you."

"Fine. I won't argue the point. You tell me. Can you name any sentinel-guide pairing working more hours than we do? No one. Not even Edwards and David. You've done a great job fitting into my life. I'm the one who needs to make the adjustment." Blair immediately started to protest. "Hear me out. How big a deal would it have been for me to come by the University, even if I did go out for the evening? How tough would it be for us to sit down and have lunch in a private spot? I don't need to work all these crazy hours either."

"It's your life, Jim. It's what you do. It's what we do."

"And I can do it better. Look, just think about it. Go shower, and I'll make some breakfast."

Blair nodded, and shuffled off toward the bathroom. Jim cursed himself as he cracked eggs into the pan. Now Blair would be fretting all day. They were both good at what they did individually, and they were good together. It shouldn't be this hard. 

&&&&&

Blair was headed to his first lecture, his mind racing through his schedule for the day for at least the twentieth time. Not even nine o'clock in the morning and he already felt overwhelmed. And Jim - what was he going to do about Jim? They hadn't really argued, but they weren't in their usual harmony, either. He was still tired, even after Jim had insisted they go home early and he'd fallen asleep. His ribs hurt and the gash on his cheek throbbed. Everything was such a mess.

"Blair!" He turned toward the voice, almost losing control over the stack of blue books he was trying to carry. "Morning, Dr. Woodward. Hey, thanks for the notes. I really appreciate them."

"It was no trouble. Here, give me some of those." Woodward grabbed a handful of the slippery things that were drooping toward the floor. When he recovered and looked up, his smile faded. "My God, Blair, what happened to your eye?"

"Oh, that," Blair said, rolling his eyes. "I tripped and my glasses broke. It looks worse than it is."

Dr. Woodward looked him up and down. "How long do you have before your class, Blair."

"Uh - maybe ten minutes."

"Then I'll walk you. Give me more of those blue books."

"Really, I can make it..."

Woodward grabbed more of the papers and cut him off. "When did this happen? This accident?"

Blair was reluctant to answer. "Really, Dr. Woodward, it wasn't a big deal."

"So you say. You didn't answer me. When?"

Blair could see there was no escape. "After the night class. I tripped in the stairwell."

"I see," Dr. Woodward said. "Is this why Detective Ellison kept you home yesterday?"

"Look, I'm really sorry about that. I've just been a little run down, and we have this kind of unique case, and Jim - anyway, I fell asleep, and..."

"And he didn't wake you," Woodward said, finishing the sentence. "Take a breath, Blair. I wholeheartedly agree with the decision." They had reached the door of the lecture hall. "What is your schedule the rest of the day?" 

"I have lectures for Anthro 101 back to back, then a class of my own. I usually stay for a while in my office so students can come in, and then go to the station. Actually, I guess Jim planned on coming to pick me up, but we're in the middle of this case, and it's hard to tell. I might need to go in immediately after class."

Woodward set the tower of blue books on the lectern, well aware of the amount of grading time they represented. "When you go back to your office, please give me a call, or better yet, stop by."

"Is something wrong, Dr. Woodward?" Considering how the day had gone so far, Blair was imagining every awful possibility. "Was there a complaint in one of my classes or something?"

"Not at all. Put your mind at ease." He reached out to pat Blair on the arm, and then pulled back. The sad look in Blair's eyes must have prompted an explanation. "I keep forgetting it's not like the old days, when I could just give you a pat on the back. I suppose even before you were a guide it took energy to keep up your barriers. I just didn't know."

"You don't have to worry so much, Dr. Woodward. I won't break. Really, if there's something I need to know..."

Woodward was already headed for the door. "Not at all, not at all. I hope to see you later."

Blair watched him leave. His students were starting to trickle in, so he wasn't going to have time to think about it. How could the day get any worse?

&&&&&

"Hi, Jim," Rhonda said. Her bright smile faded. The man's expression harkened back to the old days, when he was 'Storm Warning Ellison' instead of Jim. Before Blair, Jim, whipsawed by his misfiring senses, had been difficult at best. Rhonda had been the victim of his unpredictable moods and blunt speech more than once. Since he'd gained control over his senses, she'd grown accustomed to an easier, gentler Jim.

"Is something wrong, Detective?" she asked carefully, hoping to not make matters worse, whatever they were.

"Sorry, Rhonda. Just a little distracted." Jim pulled some folded notepaper out of his pocket. "I've got some special communications stuff routed through my desk. They always say it won't interfere with anything, but I want to make sure Sandburg can reach me today. I'd appreciate if you could check that it all rings through every few hours, just to be on the safe side."

"I don't mind at all. In fact, I can run down to the deli and try from a pay phone, just to check it on an outside line."

"Thanks, Rhonda." 

Jim headed for his desk. If she was going to ask, it was now or never. "Detective? Is Blair doing okay? I mean, I know yesterday was kind of rough. When he's here, is there anything I can do? Please don't take offense," she added hastily. 

"None taken. It's nice of you to ask, but Blair's just got a lot on his plate right now. Neither one of us got an instruction manual for this sentinel thing. Well, we got one, but it's a pack of lies."

Rhonda smiled. "If it makes you feel better, I threw my copy of Sentinel 101 in the trash during the first month. I'll make sure he can reach you, Detective. Captain Banks would like to see you as soon as possible, by the way."

"Sure thing," Jim said, although he didn't mean it. He had every intention of tracking down Henri Brown first. He wanted to know what Brown had ferreted out at Rainier before getting stuck in Simon's office. He started on his way, then caught himself and turned back. "By the way, Rhonda, you're the best. Sometimes we forget to tell you. I forget to tell you."

" Thank you, Detective. Have a good morning."

When he arrived, Simon was all business. They reviewed the preparations for the Kinnick case. Edwards had done an excellent job. Simon seemed pleased, overall. Jim didn't share his satisfaction.

"Jim, I don't get it. Considering we only went active twenty-four hours ago, this is going extremely well. The arrangements were set up in record time. Mind telling me what the problem is?"

"The arrangements are fine, Captain." Jim's expression didn't change. He continued to restlessly page through the paperwork.

"Then what?" Simon asked impatiently.

"I shouldn't have left this stuff for other people. This is my case." He looked across the desk ruefully. "I guess I don't delegate well."

"Don't second-guess yourself. You know better than to buy into that 'Ellison the super cop' nonsense. Even if you weren't comfortable with it, Sandburg needed to be taken in hand. I think you made the best possible choice." 

"I guess I'm having a little trouble with that." He set the paperwork aside and stood up. He really didn't want to discuss this with his boss right now.

Simon, however, didn't let him off so easily. "Jim, you've been working without a partner since Jack. Now you're trying to integrate with a partner who is also your guide. You haven't been at it that long. What did you expect?"

"Since I never planned on a guide, I didn't expect anything," Jim answered, a bit testily. He edged toward the door, hoping to escape.

"Ellison," Simon added sharply. There was no mistaking the tone. Captain Banks wasn't done with his detective yet. "I'm not passing judgment here. I just think it's not as big a deal as you think it is. As far as the job goes, your solve rate since bonding with Sandburg is better than ever. On a personal level, I think you seem happier. My advice as your captain is to not be so hard on yourself."

"Will that be all, sir?"

Simon gave him a look that screamed he wasn't happy with that response, but he waved him off. Jim took the opportunity and left.

&&&&

Blair tapped his pen softly on the desk top. He wasn't paying much attention to Dr. Clancy's lecture, as his professor was no doubt aware. Since Clancy was probably going to be a member of his dissertation committee, it wasn't smart to offend him. Blair shifted in the chair and tried harder, cursing his inability to ignore his own scattered thoughts.

A few minutes later, he caught himself drifting again, thinking about the lectures he'd just given. Not his finest effort. He lost his place twice, and nearly forgotten to give the new reading assignment. He'd been less than gracious when a couple of students had stayed to complain about the grading on their midterm exam. He had an excuse, needing to hurry to his own class immediately afterwards, but he should have offered to meet during office hours. He hadn't. In fact, he was fervently hoping that no one came near his door at all.

Shit. Dr. Clancy had been outlining the premise for their next research paper, and he'd already missed half of it. He quickly looked at the scribbles of the nearest student, trying to piece together what he'd missed. If he was lucky, someone would ask questions, and spare him the necessity of asking himself. No one did. Blair couldn't bring himself to open his mouth and risk Clancy's disapproval. The man had high standards and a scathing tongue.

Finally, class was dismissed. He declined an invitation to stop by the student union for coffee. He didn't have the energy to be social at the moment, and Dr. Woodward was expecting him.

It was going to be bad. He just knew it. He couldn't stop his brain from racing through the possible complaints. Someone from the night class. One of his own students. He'd been later than usual returning midterms. He kept falling asleep at night while he was grading, and Jim was kind of picky about pulling all-nighters anyway. Maybe it was departmental. He tried to remember if there was some form or other that he'd forgotten to fill out. Had he missed a deadline? 

He stopped at his office and sat for awhile. He even went so far as to ignore a knock on the door. Finally, he got his grade book, along with a disk of his current grades. If there was a question, he may as well go prepared. Locking the door, he headed for Dr. Woodward's office.

&&&&

Jim stared impatiently at the phone. Sandburg's class would be out any second. They hadn't parted on the best of terms this morning. No matter what he said to reassure him, Blair seemed despondent, almost desperate. Not that he was any better. He was having his own share of self-recriminations. Both of them were reacting like disaster was just around the corner. It wasn't like either of them to be so panicky. As Simon had so accurately pointed out, they hadn't been at this all that long.

Jim snatched up the phone, and set it down again just as quickly. If he called now, he'd probably interrupt something. He didn't want to make things worse by making Blair feel he was being monitored every second. Blair needed to have some confidence in him. Recently, everything Jim did seemed to undermine the relationship further.

Jim could feel his anger building. Brown's conversation with Dr. Woodward had confirmed every suspicion he had about what was going on at Rainier. He had plenty of patience in his investigative life and zero with anything personal. He wanted to rip the Rainier University Anthro Department apart. It was bad enough that Blair apparently didn't trust him enough to tell him everything. Even worse, it seemed his guide didn't trust himself enough to even acknowledge there was a problem. Blair wasn't a whiner, and he certainly wasn't paranoid. It was the ultimate irony that his guide was beginning to see himself as both, at the same time he was denying the realities of situation.

Jim closed his eyes, hearing from memory the sickening thumps as Blair had crashed down the stairs. A few bruises and a cut were minor compared to what might have happened. Denial and self-doubt might get his guide in serious trouble.

They might not be so lucky the next time.

&&&&&

"Blair, sit down," Dr. Woodward said, gesturing to a chair. "Can I get you some tea?"

"No thanks. I'm fine." Blair showed no inclination to sit down. "Just tell me what's wrong."

Woodward turned sharply. "Blair, this isn't the inquisition." He came around his desk and sat in the chair closest to Blair, waiting until the younger man relented and joined him. "It's the middle of semester. We're in the midst of the fray - midterms, papers, grading. I just wanted to see how things are really going, that's all."

"Everything's fine." Blair's hands were gripped around the chair arms so tightly his knuckles were white. "You must have had a reason to ask."

"I did, but it's not what you're thinking. We set out a very ambitious program, Blair. Teaching two classes, taking one and the dissertation seminar would be a full load for any graduate student."

"I'm very grateful. You can't know how much it meant - means to me." 

"Blair, this isn't about gratitude. This is about practicality. You have a full load, and added my seminar on top of it. Clancy's course is always a challenge, for anyone. Your academics alone would be taxing, plus you have all the other things going on in your life."

"I can handle it. Really, things have just gotten a little crazy."

Woodward studied his protégé carefully. This was going badly. Blair looked like hell, and he seemed terribly shaken. They weren't making any progress this way. If anything, Blair seemed to be getting the exact opposite impression of what he intended. He was still searching for another approach when Blair's cell phone started ringing.

"Excuse me," Blair muttered, digging to locate his phone. "Sandburg. Yeah, Jim, I'm out of class. No, don't do that. I can drive over. My car's still here, remember? Do you want me to come to the station? Okay. No, let me get something to write with." Woodward quickly grabbed some notepaper and a pencil, and handed to his student. Blair was writing and talking at the same time. "Five twenty-four? Got it. Jim, wait for me, please. Don't try something by yourself." The call ended and he scrambled to gather his things. "I'm sorry. I have to go, Professor. This can't wait."

Woodward was loath to let him leave without straightening this out, but there was really no alternative. Blair was a guide, and his sentinel had called. He hoped his smile was encouraging as the shaken man dashed out of the room.

&&&&&

"Mr. Kinnick? Mr. Lazar wants to see you."

Paul Kinnick looked up from the papers scattered across his desk, searching Franklin's face for signs of danger. Had he been discovered? Did Ruberto have him followed after yesterday's meeting with Ellison? Did Ruberto know he was near total betrayal and a likely trip to prison, or worse? 

The bodyguard's body showed no tension, no sign of anything out of the ordinary. Paul decided it was no time to panic. He'd been careful. "Sure thing," he said. "Just let me lock up." He gathered the stuff off his desk and locked it into the storage drawer. The gun hidden in the bottom tempted him, but he locked the drawer and trailed in Franklin's wake, making every effort to look nonchalant and normal. He was ushered into Lazar's study. Franklin nodded to his employer and departed with a nod, closing the large double doors behind him.

"Paul, come in. Sit down, sit down." Ruberto Lazar gestured freely to the elegant luncheon set for two. He was a large, self-assured man, but rarely was he this congenial with his subordinates. Kinnick was wary, but tried to match Lazar's demeanor.

They chatted about business for a few minutes over the first course. This would have been normal if the fine wine and delicious soup hadn't been included. It was routine for Kinnick to report to Lazar several times a day. Until a few weeks ago, Kinnick had been proud of his move into Lazar's inner circle as one of his most trusted lieutenants. Preliminaries aside, the remainder of the meal was apparently going to be accompanied by conversation carefully scripted by Lazar. Kinnick shifted uncomfortably. He had no choice but to play along.

Kinnick waited until coffee and dessert, and could bear it no longer. Taking his last bite of tiramisu, he displayed what he hoped was a grateful, confident smile. "This was fabulous, Mr. Lazar. I'll have trouble concentrating this afternoon. I'll get right on that situation with the shipping company..."

Ruberto shook his head as Kinnick started to rise from his chair. "Paul, the work can wait. We have other more important things to discuss. Besides, family shouldn't be so formal."

Kinnick's heart sank. Family. Molly. He sat, taking a long sip of the fragrant coffee, trying to cover his panic. His boss hadn't missed a beat.

"I want both of you to be my guests this weekend on the boat. Take a few days sailing around the sound. Give us a chance to get acquainted." He smiled knowingly. "Molly has been brought up correctly. It's right to have you at her side, to guide her through this important time."

Kinnick grasped for any reason to delay. "It may be too soon. She's really young. Immature really. Michael did his best, God rest his soul, but he kept Molly sheltered, maybe too much."

"Ah, it's hard for a younger man such as yourself to understand. In this day and age, Michael did the right thing. A son - you want a son to know the world. Not so your little girl. Michael did as any good father should. When the time arrived, he would have chosen a man of maturity and honor to care for his angel."

"Maybe in another year," Paul suggested hopefully. You didn't come right out and say no to a man like Ruberto Lazar, not if you valued your safety. Not if you valued your family.

"That's what engagements are for," Lazar reassured him. "It's what her father would do, what you as her uncle will do. Since her mother is gone, we give her time with the right people, women of quality and maturity who can prepare her to be a good wife. A young woman like Molly will learn quickly. There's no rush. We begin slowly. Early summer, I should think, will be plenty of time."

Kinnick knew he had no room to maneuver. "Of course, you're right. We both want what's best for Molly."

"Wonderful. I'll send a car for both of you on Friday and we'll sail immediately. Have dinner by sunset. Now, we need to select some appropriate companions. I'll send a list for your approval. And of course, we'll discuss the financial arrangements for Molly."

Paul Kinnick lost track of the remainder of the conversation. He needed Ellison. If he had any hope of protecting Molly, his time and options were gone.

&&&&&

Jim stood outside the tiny, ramshackle frame house. He'd tried twice to enter, and had twice retreated, overwhelmed by the smells. Two patrol units, one at the front, one at the back were keeping the site secure until Blair arrived. Forensics was here and waiting. The pervasive chemical smell had necessitated a Hazmat team, but no one wanted to invade the pristine crime scene until a sentinel had a crack at it. Unfortunately, the sentinel was waiting in the yard. Without the presence of his guide, everything was on hold.

There were times he had little patience with his existence as a sentinel. He'd braved the horrors of the battlefield, only to be defeated by his senses in Cascade, Washington. Jim was angry and on edge, frustrated by having to wait rather than forge ahead and do his job.

The sight of the Corvair careening around the corner would normally put him right into the lecture on safe driving. Sandburg had made it across town in about half the required time. Who knew what traffic laws he'd violated? Today, instead of the lecture, Jim was just glad the grad student had finally arrived. He stepped toward the curb and flagged Blair down. 

The Corvair coughed to a stop and Blair bounded out of the car, looking harried. "I'm sorry, Jim. I got stuck trying to get across the bridge."

"Don't worry about that now," Jim interrupted sharply. "We've got multiple fatalities, but they don't want to disturb the crime scene until a sentinel has reviewed it." Jim started up the walk. He didn't want to take any more time with preliminaries. He heard Blair's rapid footsteps as he hurried up the uneven concrete walk trying to catch up.

The rickety wooden porch creaked as he mounted the steps. The uniformed officers stepped back to allow him to pass. Even though the front door was just barely ajar, the smell from inside was awful. He stopped abruptly, and Blair promptly collided with him from behind.

"Jim, if you tell me what happened I can get us ready - Oh, God." Blair was staring at the wide smear of blood that ran the length of the doorjamb. Now that he was on the porch, he couldn't miss the two ragged holes torn out of the wooden door. "What happened here, Jim?" he asked.

"Some kind of drug dispute, we think, judging from the chemicals." Blair nodded. The chemical odor was obvious. "The report called to 911 said one guy, maybe two, blasted their way in with shotguns. The first officers on the scene found one guy, barely alive, who'd managed to crawl out here. He said everyone else was dead. They sent for us."

"And the survivor?"

Jim shook his head. "There isn't one anymore. He died before the ambulance got here. Come on, we need to get in there. Everyone's on hold waiting for us."

"I'm sorry, Jim. I came as fast as I could. Have you tried already?" Blair asked suspiciously.

"Twice. No luck."

"Jim, you're impossible. Okay. I assume smell was the major issue?" 

Jim nodded. "It's not just the chemicals. There's a lot of blood, and other stuff. The combination is too much."

"We'll start there." Blair rested a hand on Jim's arm and leaned close. "Turn smell to zero." He waited. "We can't leave it there. You need some sense if things get dangerous. Edge it up until you can just detect the odors. We can use sight for the first scan." His fingers wrapped tightly around Jim's wrist. "Go ahead, and I'll stay behind. Set the pace and I'll stay with you."

Jim stepped through the doorway. The interior was dark. He could see, but Blair, shuffling behind him, would be blind. The footing was treacherous. "Take it easy, Chief. Watch your step."

"What's on the floor?"

"Spent cartridges. They're all over."

"Should we stop? Are they evidence?"

"No. Not much for ballistics to work with. Stay." Even with his sense of smell turned down, the overwhelming odor of chemicals and filth, overlaid by the smell of blood, assaulted him. It was nearly unbearable. On his earlier try, this is where he had been driven back, treacherously near to a zone out. Blair was pressed close against his back. This time he tapped into the link with his guide.

Jim made his first visual scan of the room. The curtains were pulled, allowing only narrow shafts of light into the room. Even in the shadows Jim could count three - no - four bodies, just in this one room. At least one more victim was just beyond the doorway to what must be the kitchen. There was no sound except a faucet dripping somewhere in the back of the house. No heartbeats except his own and Blair's. There were definitely no survivors.

A few steps to the side and Jim could reach a light switch. A single naked bulb in a broken ceiling fixture came on. The carnage was appalling. Gaping holes dotted the walls. A gasp from behind told him Sandburg had gotten his first real look at the scene.

"Oh, God. They're so young. How could anyone...?" Blair's voice trailed off and he gagged.

The link wavered. "Don't lose it, Chief," Jim said sharply. He tensed, poised to pull them both back. He needed Blair to keep him centered. If Blair lost it, he would be right behind. A zone out would be a near certainty.

Blair was pressed against him, breathing hard. The initial wave of horror receded. "Okay, Jim. Make a physical catalog of the site. Just talk. Don't think about anything else."

Personal needs aside, Jim scanned the room. "Looks like crossing fire. One went in high, one low. Multiple reloads. Rounds ejected on the floor. Looks like they worked their way in, firing as they went. Classic assault technique; could be military. We'll need to check that as a possibility. No one in the house got very far. We have two juvenile females, three males, maybe early twenties at the most. No visible weapons."

"God, the smell. Where are chemicals? Even I can smell them."

"Must have been cooking drugs in the kitchen. I can see some broken lab glassware. There's liquid spilled everywhere. Stray pellets must have shattered some containers."

"Don't go near it, Jim. Even if you can stand it, I don't think I can make it."

"I'm not. You're right, we can't stay here. They'll have to send Hazmat in. I feel kind of light-headed."

"Back us out of here, Jim. Closer to fresh air, or out completely."

"Out completely. I've done what I can for now." Jim stepped back, forcing Blair towards the doorway behind him. They half stumbled onto the porch. Blair tripped and rolled before Jim could catch him. He landed on the scraggly grass. Instinctively, Jim headed his direction, but Blair waved him off. "Not now, Jim." He stumbled away from Jim, around the house. Jim could hear the retching.

Choosing to give Blair some space, he decided to deal with the waiting specialists. "Go ahead," he said to the officer in charge of Hazmat. "Go in through the back. That will keep you out of the critical part of the crime scene. The chemicals are in the kitchen. Let me know when you have the worst of it cleared and we'll work the upstairs and the remainder of the first floor." 

The members of the forensics team were all familiar faces. Jim had an initial laundry list for them. "Ignore the bodies for the moment. Lots of spent cartridges, but they won't do us much good, unless we can trace a vendor, which I doubt. I saw one clear boot print in the entry. Before you do anything else in the main room, check the floor. I think they stepped through the blood to check that everyone was dead, so we may be able to lift more shoeprints. Check the doorway to the kitchen for blood smears on the right hand side. I'll go back in as soon as Hazmat does its thing."

"You got it, detective. Are you staying?"

Jim nodded. He stopped by the truck, grabbed a bottle of water he knew was there and set off to look for his partner. He found Blair around the side of the house, still looking a little green. 

Blair looked up grimly as he approached. "I'm sorry. You deserve better."

"Plenty of veterans would have been doing the same thing." He handed him the water. "Here, rinse your mouth out. It'll help."

"Are we going back in? We didn't get much."

"We got enough for now. I told forensics what to look for. For now, let's look around the outside of the house, and maybe down the street. We'll work the upstairs and the rest of the first floor when they've made a dent."

"The whole neighborhood looks deserted."

"The residents around here probably have pretty good radar when something goes down, and none of them want an up close and personal with the Cascade PD. Those that could probably split at the first sound of gunfire. The rest are probably holed up. We'll do what we can while we wait." He extended a hand to help his partner off the ground. Blair leaned close, and Jim wrapped an arm around his guide's shoulders. There were no prying eyes here, and Jim really didn't care even if there were. A few moments to regroup weren't going to make a difference.

They made a circuit around the house. A quick check of the trash can confirmed Jim's suspicions. There were no scraps from actual meals or nutritious food. There were plenty of remnants indicating consistent and heavy drug use.

"They were junkies, weren't they?" Blair asked quietly. 

"It will show on the autopsies, but it looks that way. Probably cooking to support their habits and strayed onto someone's turf."

"What a waste. More dead than alive, even before they were gunned down."

Jim pulled his partner away from the house. They worked the street, checked the neighborhood. Blair's heart rated never seemed to drop. He was really on edge. Something else had happened at the University. Jim was sure of it.

&&&&&

Paul Kinnick was frantic. Ruberto Lazar had kept him for hours, graciously planning for Molly's future. He'd made no secret of the fact that Paul himself would benefit enormously, as Molly's only living relative. The family looked after its own. His desk phone had a message from Molly. She'd forgotten to charge the cell phone, and it was nearly dead. She was going to Kayla's, and had left the number, but the Webb's phone had been busy on every attempt. 

Unless he wanted to hand his brother's only child over to a man more twice her age, he had less than twenty four hours to swing a deal with the authorities and escape the Lazar family. To make matters worse, the news was out, and highly placed members of the organization kept dropping by to extend their congratulations. The secure cell phone, carefully locked away, remained out of reach as the well wishers came and went. No matter how desperate he was to contact Ellison, he couldn't take the chance of that particular call being overheard or interrupted.

It was nearly three. He had to move. Leave the estate, get Molly, and contact Ellison. His carefully laid plans were in shambles. His ability to strike a deal depended on the information he brought with him. Realistically, he had to remove some of it now, before he left. 

He made his excuses. Molly was stranded, and needed to be picked up. He declined the offer of a car. No, she'd be excited at the prospect of a sailing excursion. He would take her shopping, maybe buy her dinner.

As he drove off, he watched carefully. Ruberto Lazar was highly security conscious. Employees of the Lazar family expected to be monitored. It was part of survival. He still couldn't reach Molly. Damn teenage girls and their endless phone calls. He'd need to pick her up, and he didn't know the address. That meant going home, getting the address, then driving over to Kayla's. As soon as he was sure he wasn't being monitored, he needed to call Ellison.

&&&&&

By the time Jim got to the bullpen with the preliminary forensics reports, Blair's fingers were already flying over the keyboard. Jim pulled up a chair and looked over his guide's shoulder. Their own preliminary report was taking shape on the screen. 

"You have a gift for this stuff, Chief."

"I had a good teacher," Blair said with a grin.

"Don't ask Simon about that. He was always chewing on me about my paperwork, or lack thereof. With you, I'm a star. If the other sentinels knew, they'd be fighting over you."

"I doubt that," Blair said, still typing. Jim marveled at his ability to carry on a conversation while writing. He hit the print icon and turned to Jim. "Besides, I'm yours, remember? You're stuck, I'm afraid. What did forensics say?"

"About what we figured. Both girls were runaways. Two of the men had rap sheets, the third they're still working on. I think it was an execution, pure and simple."

"So whose toes did they step on? Any ideas?"

"That's the task for tomorrow. I have two, maybe three dealers who are major players in mind. People with enough juice to hire a hit squad."

"What about the phone numbers you pulled from the kitchen notepad? I traced the numbers." Blair gave him a handwritten list. "Two restaurants, and one that must be a residence. I didn't see any takeout, did you?"

"No," Jim said. Searching through garbage was one of his least favorite things. "Maybe one of them worked. We'll go by with pictures, see if someone recognizes them."

"Let me get my stuff. Simon wants you to bring the prelim right away."

Jim snagged the two-page report as it spewed out of the printer. Simon wasn't usually in such a hurry for initial reports. He knocked and went in. Simon was at his desk looking particularly harried.

"What have we got?" he asked brusquely, without really looking up.

"Not much, yet. I lifted some phone numbers by touch from a pad in the kitchen. We'll get photos of the victims and see what we get. The lab is analyzing the chemical residues. They might get a match from evidence that's been logged in other cases. It's not much, but better than what we've got. I think any ballistics evidence is a non-starter. You can't ID shotgun pellets."

Simon shook his head. "They meant business, or wanted to send a very clear message. Local news is using this as the lead story. They've been driving us crazy with requests for info. I assume you'd rather I took this one?"

"Please. You're not going to be able to say much other than 'ongoing investigation', which sure isn't going to satisfy anyone."

"Do we have ID's?"

Jim pointed out the rap sheets. "Most of them, but I'd rather not release those just yet. Give me a chance to beat the bushes first."

"Then we'll stop with 'ongoing' and stall a bit." Simon tossed his glasses onto the desk. "See you tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Jim asked. He looked quickly at his watch. Their shift was officially ending. By habit, he rarely paid attention to quitting time. Normally he'd still be trying to chase leads well into the evening.

He looked out into the bull pen. Blair was sitting quietly, jacket on, backpack on his lap, waiting. He was staring off, lost in his own thoughts. The expression on his face told the story: he was a tired man at what should be the end of a very trying day.

Jim turned back to Simon. "Can it wait until tomorrow?" he asked.

Simon looked in the direction of Sandburg and raised his eyebrows. "Don't you think it should, Jim? By your own admission, you need to watch it. None of these leads are going to evaporate. None of them seem very time sensitive. Besides, I'll bet the Coroner's office doesn't even have the photos ready for you. You'd be waiting at least another hour. Get out of here, Ellison. Feed him a decent meal while you're at it. I'll make you a bet neither of you ate today."

Jim cringed. "Direct hit, sir. See you tomorrow, and thank you."

Jim beat his partner back to the loft. Blair still had his car, and he wanted to run by his office. In his hasty departure, most of his work had been left behind. Jim reluctantly agreed, although he hated the idea of Blair bent over a stack of papers or at his computer all night. 

He took the opportunity to stop by their favorite Italian place and get pasta. Simon was right. They had missed lunch - again. So much for his good intentions. No quiet time, no food, just another horrendous case for Blair to process. He chose pepperoni lasagna for himself and Alfredo with chicken for Sandburg. The extra calories would do him good. They had veggies at the loft he could steam up and stave off the inevitable lecture about saturated fat. He added a good bottle of wine. Blair was still hesitant about drinking, but half a glass wouldn't hurt anything. He was determined to give his partner a more relaxing evening after a tough day.

Blair was unusually quiet when he got home. Jim resisted the temptation to quiz him about Rainier. If something had happened, he'd get to it soon enough. Jim concentrated on the food and keeping the atmosphere quiet and relaxing. He even coaxed his partner to sample the wine, just for the sake of ambiance. Blair seemed grateful to eat in silence. Jim turned down his offer to clean. He sent Sandburg off to study instead. With any luck, he'd have some uninterrupted time to get something accomplished.

&&&&&

Kinnick consciously tried to keep himself from shouting. Molly would react badly if he lost his temper. He swallowed his own fear and kept his voice calm. "Molly, I told you not to do this. Didn't you listen when I explained this?"

"I'm sorry about the phone. I left messages everywhere we went." Molly looked hurt. "I thought I did it right. I tried. Really, Paul, I did."

Kinnick gritted his teeth. That didn't change the fact that he'd wasted hours chasing around trying to find her as Molly and Kayla had flitted though their usual haunts. They just needed to go on. He debated explaining to Molly that their situation had changed, and pushed the thought aside. He couldn't be sure how Molly would react. If she got upset, he could never pull this off. She'd play her part better if she were completely unaware.

"Well, I guess I forgive you," he said, forcing a false lightness into his tone. "Actually, we're going out for a treat. What's your very favorite store right now?"

Molly smiled broadly. "Well, I actually just love The Garden Gate. I've never bought anything there, but everything is so beautiful."

"Well, the Garden Gate it is. I just have to make one quick stop along the way."

He drove, chatting with Molly. He'd get the phone, and call Ellison. There was no turning back now.

&&&&&

Blair could sense from his tone that something was wrong, even thought he was privy to only one side of the conversation. "Kinnick? Yes, everything's in place, just like I told you. Tonight? What the hell? Of course I'll meet you. Where are you? I'll need twenty minutes." He looked grim as he hung up the phone. "Get your shoes and coat while I call Simon. Kinnick's moved up the timetable. It's going down right now. They're on the run."

&&&&&

"How are we going to do this, Jim?" Blair's eyes looked apprehensive. They were parked in the huge lot that surrounded Cascade's most exclusive shopping mall. They'd had to take the Corvair, on the off chance that better transportation wouldn't arrive in time. The truck simply wouldn't accommodate four people, and Kinnick's transportation, whatever it was, would have to be abandoned. His well-used classic looked very out of place among the expensive luxury cars.

"Sorry, Chief. I know I've scared you. These things are always tricky. Something has spooked Kinnick, and he's moved before we're really prepared. I've spotted a couple decent ways to get out without being observed."

"That's why we drove around a couple of times?" Blair asked anxiously.

"Yeah. I needed to make sure the shops were basically in the same spots."

"You've actually shopped here?" Blair asked, not hiding his surprise. "I can't imagine this being your style. No offense intended, of course."

Jim chuckled. "None taken. Carolyn shopped here. I just trailed behind, carried the bags and provided the credit card."

Blair laughed and seemed to relax a bit, so Jim took the opportunity to explain. "We can't really converse without the chance of being seen. Basically, we'll improvise. If Kinnick's sharp, he'll just follow us when we find him, and that will be that." He patted Blair's knee reassuringly. "It won't be that much different than a stakeout. It just would be more secure if we'd really had time to plan for it."

Jim decided on a parking place, and they hit the mall. After making two passes, they loitered around the lavish central courtyard, hoping to catch a glimpse of Paul Kinnick. Jim was so intent of studying the busy shoppers that he failed to notice immediately that Blair was pressing into his back. 

"What's wrong, Chief? Are you okay?" Jim half-turned and looked at the shorter man. "Are you hurting? Do you need to sit down?"

Blair rubbed his hands up and down his jeans-covered legs. "Sorry. I'm okay. Just feeling a little bit shaky. I look like the homeless person at the country club. I should have dressed better."

Jim did a double take. Blair was dressed casually, and they'd been in a terrible rush getting here. Jim hadn't given it another thought, but he understood immediately what Sandburg meant. Jim was reasonably dressed, and was wearing a ridiculously expensive leather coat that had been a gift from Carolyn. He blended in with the other affluent shoppers. Sandburg, in his student-casual clothes, definitely didn't. Under normal circumstances, Blair was perfectly comfortable with his rather individual appearance. Taking his guide's abnormal stress level into account, his discomfort wasn't that much of a surprise.

"Don't apologize, Chief. It wouldn't have taken thirty seconds for me to tell you where we were going, and you could have adjusted." He scanned the surrounding stores again, both for Kinnick and one particular shop he remembered. No Kinnick, but the shop was close by. He steered Blair to a café table and dug some cash out of his wallet. "Order us each one of those fancy coffees and something to eat. I'll be right back."

Blair looked panicked. "Jim..."

Jim leaned down and whispered, "You're out in the open. Kinnick will recognize you as easily as me." A waitress was approaching, and gave Blair an encouraging smile. "Now don't order me anything too weird."

Jim waited until Blair was absorbed with the waitress and made a beeline for DeLaney's. He hadn't been entirely truthful. He'd been a customer at these stores at one time, under the close supervision of his father. As much as he shuddered at the memory, he was pretty sure he could remember how to get a salesclerk to jump hoops in a hurry. William Ellison had been an expert. A platinum Visa and an attitude were all you really needed.

He arrived back at the table just after some frothy concoction was served in elegant pottery mugs. Jim dumped his shopping bag, sat down and took a sip, nodding his approval.

Blair eyed the bags suspiciously. "What are you up to, Jim?"

"Blending in." Jim shrugged, stifling a grin. "And watching my partner's back in the bargain. Lose the flannel, Chief."

"What?"

"You heard me. I know you. You've got a t-shirt on underneath." Blair looked skeptical but complied. Jim snatched up the blue plaid, and ripped the tissue off his first purchase. "Put this on."

Blair eyes widened as the sky-blue sweater was dumped in his hands. "Are you crazy? You didn't need to buy this." Jim watched a frown cross his face as he noticed the blend. Okay, so cashmere was pretty hard to miss. "It must have cost a fortune. I never should have said anything."

"Quit arguing, Sandburg. You can do rich college guy for an hour or two. You'll look suitably - what do they call it? - shabby chic with your jeans. I bought you a jacket, too. Pull your hair tie out. You'll look like you stepped out of a magazine."

"Jim!" Shaking his head, Blair stood up and pulled on the sweater. It was irresistibly soft. He couldn't help but stroke the sleeves.

Jim gave him a satisfied look and handed him the jacket, making a point to remove the price tag before Blair got a look. "There. You look great. Consider yourself in full camouflage. All you need is a little face paint and a weapon."

"That'd do the trick for sure," Blair answered with a snicker. "The jacket is beautiful. Thanks, Jim. I can't believe you just picked this stuff off the rack. You weren't in there ten minutes."

Jim shrugged. "So I know my guide, and I can judge a size. I ought to be able to do something practical with these senses once in awhile."

"You don't have to baby me this way. You didn't fool me either. This getup costs more than I make in a couple of months."

Jim laughed. "You can wear the whole outfit next time we go to my dad's for dinner. He'll be thrilled. All his wardrobe training completely failed with me. Besides, it's part of our cover." Jim stuffed the flannel and Blair's regular coat into the shopping bag. "Now drink your coffee, and I'll keep watching for Kinnick."

&&&&&

Paul Kinnick was ready to crawl out of his skin. He had enough incriminating evidence stuffed in his pockets to get himself killed, and Ellison was nowhere to be seen. The mall had seemed like a good choice, but he'd forgotten how many nooks and crannies there were in this structure. What if they didn't find him?

He'd tried to explain to Molly whenever he thought it was safe, and so far, she'd played along beautifully. The other possibility was that she didn't get it at all. After taking several circuits around the mall, he'd finally taken her into her favorite shop. There was no point in pushing his luck by frightening her with his own anxiety. He surreptitiously looked out the window into the center of the mall. If he had a watcher, hopefully they'd just assume he was bored, waiting for Molly to try on her selections. 

Her voice jerked him back to reality. "Paul? Do you like it?"

He smiled, trying to put her at ease. If he seemed calm, Molly would follow his lead. "I think I like the green one better. Let's get it, and that other outfit.

"The one with the white sweater?" Molly asked him hopefully. "That was awfully pretty."

"Definitely the white sweater," he said smiling. She was so appreciative it was impossible not to spoil her, especially when such tough times were coming upon them. "Change into your favorite and we'll look around some more." 

A figure coming out of DeLaney's caught his eye. He couldn't keep his head from snapping around. Ellison, carrying shopping bags, was walking across the courtyard. Kinnick watched eagerly as the detective sat down at the tables across from another man. Of course, the guide was there. After a moment of irritation, Kinnick reminded himself that the guide was a necessary evil and nothing to be upset about. 

Now that he'd finally located Ellison, Kinnick wasn't about to wait. This was shredding his nerves. "Ring up our purchases," he said crisply. "We have a dinner engagement."

"Of course, Mr. Kinnick," the sales associate replied. She scurried off with his credit card. He'd probably made her week with commissions.

He didn't answer. He was too busy praying that the next hour wouldn't be a disaster.

&&&&&

"Jim. It's Kinnick. I'm sure of it."

Jim didn't move, other than to take a sip of his coffee. "Tell me where."

"Right behind you, leaving a shop, and he's coming our way. Molly's with him."

"Does he see us?" Jim asked. They'd know in a moment how things were going to go.

"I think so," Blair said. He watched carefully for a few more moments. "Yeah, he's being cool about it, but I'm sure he does."

"Then we wait. Relax, Chief. Like I said, it's not much different from a stakeout."

Jim's patience was rewarded. Kinnick took the next table, his back to Jim, with their chairs nearly touching. Blair was able to see Molly's bright expression fade as she realized they were sitting down for more than a break from shopping. She apparently remembered him from their morning conversation, and smiled happily. When she moved to sit in the chair closest to Blair, Kinnick abruptly pulled her back. Blair stiffened. For whatever reason, probably more than one, Kinnick didn't want Molly near him. Blair looked down slightly, willing himself not to react. Paul Kinnick wasn't the only person in the world who felt guides should be kept closeted away. It wasn't the most important thing at the moment.

He might have fooled Kinnick, but even with his mind on the case, Jim didn't miss it. "Not a problem," Blair whispered in tones only Jim would hear. "I'm fine." At that moment, he was unreasonably grateful for his new clothes. Jim's impromptu kindness made him feel much less vulnerable.

Still, Blair wished he were closer to his sentinel. He was tired, and he could feel the beginnings of another headache. Images of the crime scene haunted him. He hated to admit it, but maybe Jim was right about his tumble down the stairs. He'd felt totally awful ever since.

Be honest, he scolded himself. You felt awful before you did a cartwheel onto your head. He hated the feeling of not being able to keep up with his duties. All through his bachelor's and master's he'd taught classes, gone to school and worked a job, and had coped just fine. Working with Jim shouldn't be that much different. It couldn't be that much different. 

Knowing the details were safely in Jim's hands, he forced himself to try to relax. Kinnick was their case, nothing more. Whatever he might think about guides was immaterial. All Blair Sandburg needed to worry about was staying sharp for his sentinel.

Another flood of emotion swept over him, and he felt his barriers waver. What was going on here? He struggled to pull himself together, conscious of the worried look he got from Jim. Damn, the last thing Jim needed right now was his guide going to pieces. 

He realized Molly was the source of the disturbance. Maybe something had been said that upset her, or she was just getting nervous again.

It was a risk, but he took a chance and lowered his barriers deliberately. Now that he was really paying attention, the experience was deeply unsettling. He couldn't understand it. He was an empath. Dealing with the emotions of others was as natural to him as breathing. Molly was a puzzle he really wanted an answer for, even if the timing was terrible. After another day or two, he'd probably never see her again.

Giving up, he shifted his attention to the oddly fragmented conversation going on between Jim and Paul Kinnick. 

"Are you sure you weren't followed?" Jim asked. The answer was delayed, as Kinnick's order arrived.

"I was careful."

"Which means you're not sure. We need to split up. Blair can walk Molly out. Anyone from Lazar will stay with you. We'll go the opposite way. That way I can check our back."

"No way. I'm not sending Molly off alone with - him. With a guide."

Blair watched Jim stiffen. His sentinel never took this kind of comment well. He decided to interrupt before Jim snapped. "Jim, we could do it the other way. You take Molly. Mr. Kinnick can just follow me out. You could watch from somewhere."

"I can't intercept anyone following from a distance," Jim said sharply. He didn't sound in the mood for compromise. It was a tense situation, and Blair realized this was well on the way to becoming a major argument.

"I told you I wasn't followed," Kinnick insisted.

"A safe house isn't much good if it's not a secret," Jim answered. "You're putting more than your own life in jeopardy." Even without making eye contact with Kinnick, his message was clear enough. "I don't know what crazy ideas you have, but forget them. We need to do this right. We're very exposed here. The longer we wait, the greater the risk."

"Paul, it's fine," Molly said, pulling timidly at Kinnick's sleeve. "He was nice. It's not a big deal. You'll be right there, and we're just going to walk through the mall."

"Molly, you don't understand," Kinnick said. Blair noticed how different his tone and demeanor were when he spoke with Molly. "They're not like us."

Molly seemed shrink in her chair, but she didn't give up. "I don't like being here, Paul. I want to leave. Please, let's just do this the way detective wants."

Kinnick stared at the floor. "All right, Ellison," he muttered. "We'll do it your way. This time."

&&&&&

It was one of those moments when Blair was infinitely grateful for Jim's looming presence. Kinnick's objections were bad enough, but the open hostility from the District Attorney, WD Price was almost unbearable. The moment he arrived at the safe house, he ordered Blair be removed from the room. Before Jim could refuse, Blair had darted into the kitchen "to make some coffee". When Jim, Kinnick and Price were absorbed in the discussion, he'd slipped back in, standing behind Jim's back. Out of sight, out of mind. No one seemed to notice.

Blair wearily laid his head between Jim's shoulder blades, easily sensing the tension running through the three other men in the room. He concentrated on sending soothing images to his angry sentinel. Price was being his usual rude, imperious self. Making matters worse, by bolting early, Kinnick had upset the typical negotiation process. Price figured he could call all the shots, and Kinnick was just as determined to strike his own deal. Jim was caught in the middle. 

What they needed here was a good mediator. If he and Jim had been alone with Kinnick, that might have been Blair's role. Jim always complimented his people skills. With Price here, it wasn't even a remote possibility. All he could do was try to support Jim and keep from becoming a bone of contention himself.

Back and forth it went, Price insisting, Kinnick refusing, Jim seething at both of them. Things were rising to a fever pitch when Simon arrived. His presence seemed to put a damper on Price's arrogance, at least temporarily. 

"Considering the fact we had to act so quickly, why don't we continue this tomorrow?" Simon suggested. "I'm sure we can make more progress by taking a few hours to regroup. Give Major Crime an opportunity to review the evidence Mr. Kinnick has available."

"Don't be ridiculous, Banks," Price said scornfully. "I'm the last word here."

"Actually, you're not," Simon answered. There was no mistaking the steel in his voice. "The task force has given their approval. It's the responsibility of Detective Ellison and Major Crime to prepare the case. When we need a legal opinion, we'll ask. Your presence here is premature."

Blair peeked out from behind Jim's back. The wave of anger coming from Price was impossible to ignore. That last comment had gotten to him. Maybe Simon would do them all a favor and toss him out the door. Simon had enough clout to complain and make it stick.

Price glared at Simon, then at Kinnick. "Your brother Michael was gunned down for the Lazar family. Looked like a piece of Swiss cheese when he died like a dog. Don't play with me or you'll end up the same way."

That tore it. An unidentified object went flying past Price's head and crashed into the wall behind him. He barely had time to duck. In shock, everyone turned to backtrack along the flight path. Molly, who had retreated into the background while the others argued, was searching for something else to hurl in the same direction.

"Shut up," she screamed. "Don't you say anything about my daddy. That's not true! It's not! I hate you! I hate you!"

Kinnick grabbed her, trying to wrap her in a hug. Molly fought his comforting arms, screaming and crying at the same time. "He lies! My daddy didn't die like that. Make him stop, Paul. He's a horrible man. I hate him. I hate him."

Simon went nose to nose with Price. "You damn fool!" he growled in hushed tones. "She probably didn't know." He pulled Price away, separating them slightly from the others. 

Despite Kinnick's efforts to calm her, Molly was hysterical. Nothing he said or did seemed to make any impression on her. Things went from bad to worse. She finally stopped fighting and slumped against Kinnick, still sobbing helplessly. Looking over the top of her head, he said softly to Jim, "What do I do?"

Jim looked wordlessly at his guide. Blair nodded, and searched Kinnick's face for his approval. Knowing how he felt about guides, Blair couldn't interfere without his permission.

"Molly?" Kinnick asked. "Come on, sissy, listen to me." He used one finger to tilt her chin up. "Please, Molly." He motioned to Blair. There was no mistaking the desperation on his face.

Blair forced himself into a state of complete calm. Entering the emotions of another, especially in moments of great distress, was tricky in itself. Molly's unusual signature, for want of a better term, made him extremely wary. He laid an open hand, using the lightest possible touch, on the back of her neck. He stroked with his fingertips along each vertebrae. She flinched slightly, then stilled. Slowly he placed both hands on her shoulders. Increased contact made it easier to shunt away her violent emotions and replace them with soothing impulses. 

The sobs softened to a whimper. "Molly, it's Blair. We're going to go talk, okay. Nothing scary. Nothing bad." He waited. Molly had to take this step willingly. No one could force her. More importantly, Kinnick had to let her go freely. Blair waited, motionless, willing his empathy to be a still pool, absorbing her raging storm.

Finally, she turned, leaning into his shoulder. "Everything's fine," he whispered. "Come with me." Slowly, quietly, with one last look at Jim, Blair led her away.

&&&&&

"Are they ever going to stop arguing?" Molly whispered. She was curled up on a sofa opposite Blair, looking impossibly young. 

Blair smiled sympathetically. It had taken a long time to get her to this point. Limited conversation was a huge improvement. "Let Paul take care of that. They're not really arguing. It's like male lions roaring at each other. It will all turn out to be just a difference of opinion." Not exactly true, but true enough for now.

Molly's head drooped. "I hate this place," she said. "And I hate that man."

Blair silently agreed. Even with the door closed, neither of them could miss the angry tones coming from the adjacent room. At that very moment, Simon's voice boomed through the small house. Molly's head snapped up. Things were definitely escalating again. 

"Could we go for a walk?" she asked abruptly. "Or just go outside?"

Blair would have agreed in a heartbeat, but no one was going to let either of them go wandering around in the night. Molly was obviously a sensitive girl, and even with his help, this was terribly hard on her. To be honest, it was hard on him. The raging emotions were crashing against his barriers. If they didn't reach a resolution soon, he was going to be in real trouble, right along with Molly. "I'd love to, but it would never fly. Protective custody sort of requires you stay out of sight. We'll just have to ignore it."

"Then talk to me. Tell me about Rainier. Tell me about the students. I might never go to college, but I can dream."

Blair could have groaned. He was so tired. Calming Molly had drained him. All he wanted to do was go home with Jim and sleep. Still, none of this was Molly's fault. Her whole life was being turned upside down. A few anecdotes about campus life weren't going to kill him. It was the least he could do.

So he talked. About his students, his classes. The view from Hargrove hall over the fountain. What his office looked like, and the people he worked with. Funny answers he'd read on exams. How it felt to be in the center of campus, swirling with young people. How he locked himself out of his dorm room when he was a freshman. What magic it was to study and learn.

She listened. She asked questions. A few times she even laughed. Both of them tried to forget the clock as the hours ticked away.

&&&&&

Jim closed his eyes. He needed to concentrate on his guide, but the conflicting noises beat down on his ears like a hammer. Simon and Price were still going at it, with no end in sight. Kinnick had demanded to excuse himself, frustrated with the progress of the negotiations, insisting that he needed to see Molly. Through the ongoing argument, Jim could hear her. She was crying again, and Kinnick was trying to explain why he'd kept the truth nature of her father's death from her. Jim didn't envy him. The crackle of radios in the units posted outside, protecting the house, added to the unrelenting din. He gave up and left the room. He needed to see Blair.

He barely entered the room when he felt Blair's grip tighten on his arm. "Shut it all out, Jim. Find your center." Jim relaxed momentarily into the bond, relieved when the racket was replaced the steady breathing of his guide. When he opened his eyes, one look at Blair's face brought a wave of guilt with it. He came in to bolster Blair, and his guide had turned the tables on him in a heartbeat.

Blair was clearly exhausted, and yet, here he was, pouring every last ounce of energy into soothing his sentinel. "Pull back, Chief," Jim said tersely. Seeing the hurt in Blair's eyes, Jim tried to redeem the situation. "Don't jump to any conclusions. Problem solved; we can both relax. You did the trick."

"It's my job, Jim," Blair protested. "Don't push me away."

"And it's my job to watch out for you. It's okay now, really." Blair looked skeptical. Jim pulled him closer, cataloging what Blair's body was telling him. Sandburg was definitely pushing his limits.

"What is that guy's problem, anyway?" Blair asked wearily.

"Price? You name it. He thinks we panicked and brought Kinnick in too soon. He's demanding all kinds of information up front. Kinnick's being cautious. Whatever spooked him must have been pretty serious. It's put him in a weak negotiating position, and Price is pushing him for all it's worth. It makes Kinnick dig in all the more."

"Is that all? I don't think so."

"Well, not exactly all." Jim felt his anger grow, and tried to reel it in. The last thing Blair needed was more emotion flooding through the bond. After a moment, Blair nudged his ribs. He wasn't going to let him off the hook. "Now that Kinnick's in, he's demanding we turn the case over to him. When he gets tired of working on Kinnick, that's what he goes after Simon about the administrative crap."

"Based on what justification? This was your case from the beginning. Kinnick came to you."

"The supposed general incompetence of Cascade PD, Major Crime in particular. Simon's pretty hot."

"Small wonder. Why don't you go ahead and say it, Jim. I don't have your ears, but I didn't miss everything. He really doesn't want me around his case."

"That's not true, Sandburg." Jim squirmed under Sandburg's skeptical look. "Okay, but it's only partially true. It's not you personally. It's standard procedure to have sentinel protection with a witness this important. He doesn't trust any of the sentinel-guide pairs in Major Crime and wants to replace them with GDP sentinels. We're not traditional enough for him. Says it indicates a lack of discipline. He's labeled all of us as unreliable."

"God forbid he should notice our performance ratings. I'm surprised Simon didn't squish him like a bug."

Jim snorted. "I'm sure he's tempted. Simon's not the only one. Kinnick wants no part of it, just because Price suggested it. Those two hated each other on sight."

"Does it really matter what he wants?" Blair buried his head on Jim's shoulder. Jim took it as another clear indication of his exhaustion.

"Oh, yeah, it matters. He's holding his information. You don't move up in a major crime family by being a pushover. His only weakness might be Molly. How's she doing, anyway?"

Blair pushed away so he could look Jim in the eye. "She worries me, Jim. What she's been through would unsettle anyone, but I think she's pretty sensitive under normal circumstances. Things really upset her. It's weird; almost childlike. Her emotions are very intense."

"What are you trying to say, Chief? So she's been sheltered? It wouldn't be a first."

"That's not what I mean." Then Blair shook his head. "I don't know what I mean. I'm too tired to think straight."

Jim took another good look at Blair and shook his head. "This is ridiculous. I'm going to have someone take you home. You need to get some rest. I'll be there as soon as things sort themselves out."

"Absolutely not. You just had trouble with your hearing. I need to stay."

"Don't turn this into an argument," Jim said firmly, knowing already where this conversation was headed. Sandburg wasn't going to give in. Their test of wills was cut short by a bellow from Simon.

"Ellison!"

Jim dashed out of the room, Blair on his heels.

A grim faced Kinnick was eyeball to eyeball with Price. Molly was half a step behind, tears spilling down her cheeks. Both were wearing their coats.

"You're not listening, Price. I'm not under arrest. You can't keep me here, not legally. We're leaving." He glared at Jim. "Ellison, I had your word as a point of honor. You standing behind it?"

Jim's only answer was to turn and hand Blair the keys to the Corvair. "Go warm up the car. We'll be right behind you."

Blair's path toward the door took him past Price. Price grabbed his arm and jerked him back, trying to pry the keys out of his hands. "You worthless upstart! You're not going anywhere with my witness!"

Jim exploded. Simon tried to intercept him, unsuccessfully. Jim's powerful grip dug into Price's forearm, searching for the pressure points. Price yelped in pain and released Blair, but that wasn't enough for the angry sentinel. One step at a time, he forced Price away from his guide, never breaking eye contact. Warnings from both Simon and Blair were ignored. Jim subtly increased the pressure. "Never touch my guide again."

"Back off, Jim," Simon barked.

Jim finally dropped the prosecutor's arm, making no secret of his contempt. "You ready, Kinnick?" he asked, never moving his glare from Price's face.

"All right, damn it," Price conceded. "We'll leave it as is. I'll be here in the morning." Jim refused to move out of his path. Price finally stepped around him. He turned his attention to Simon. "If this goes down badly, Banks, you'll be solely responsible. You and your crew of misfits!" He stormed out.

Jim turned his attention back to Kinnick. "Stay or go?" he asked quietly. "You know the risks, either way."

"I'll stay, but you'd better be here in the morning, Ellison. You, too, Banks, before Price gets here. Price isn't my choice, and I won't deal with him. Come on, Molly. Let's get you settled."

Simon waited until the two disappeared behind closed doors. He waved Jim toward the door. "I'll stay until everything is in place and we have coverage for the night. This is going to be a rough one. Do we have a plan B?"

"I'm not sure we even have a plan A," Jim answered sarcastically. "See you in the morning."

&&&&&

__

Everything is fine. Everything is fine. Everything is fine.

Sitting in the dark, in this strange, horrible little house, everything was not fine.

Molly sat up on the bed, hugging her knees to her chest. Paul had been so patient, so careful of her feelings. After the detective and Blair had left, he'd dried her tears, tucked her in like a child. 

Time to wake up. Molly knew she was protected, sheltered, probably a bit spoiled. It had never bothered her. Her friends weren't much different. They were a little more adventurous, maybe. Now, in the middle of a crisis, she had to face reality. Paul needed her to act like an adult, and she didn't have a clue how to behave.

She should have stayed with Paul. She'd gotten upset, and he'd sent her away, always protecting her. Paul was fighting for both of them. And what was she doing? Listening to fairy stories about college. She was ashamed of herself. Why hadn't she paid more attention when Paul had first explained what he was planning? 

  
She accepted everything Paul told her at face value and ignored it at the same time. Fighting down a wave of panic, she tried to sort through snippets of conversation. Molly Louise Adkins Kinnick might be clueless, but she wasn't stupid. Now that she gave it even a moment's thought, you didn't need police protection to break off a marriage proposal. She was only beginning to see what Ruberto Lazar was. Even more painful was the realization that her father, and even Paul, were cut from the same cloth.

She understood now. She was never going back to her home. Her books, her pictures, her friends - all gone. She realized she was trembling, and crying again. What was the deal? No one was this much of a basket case.

Molly bit down on a knuckle. Her head felt like it was going to explode. What in the world was wrong with her?

&&&&&

"Are we there yet?"

Jim smiled indulgently at his partner. "Yep. Elevator ride is over. Sorry to wake you from your nap."

"You sure I can't just stay here?" Blair was leaning into the corner of the elevator, letting the walls hold him up.

"Nope, can't do it. They're very strict about loitering around here. Come on, Chief, almost there. Five more minutes and you'll be snoozing." Jim made sure his partner was following him and went to unlock the door.

Jim tossed his keys in the basket and took Blair's coat as he shrugged it off. "Go put your sweats on."

Blair took a few steps and stopped. He was staring at all his books and study materials, still spread across the floor and the coffee table. "I have a few things to finish up. I'll try to be quiet."

"You can't be serious. Leave the stuff there. You can get it in the morning."

"Jim, I've got too much to do." Blair headed toward the living area.

Jim intercepted him, turning him by the shoulders. "Sweats. Now. No book. Do not pass go, do not get two hundred dollars. Don't argue. You're so tired you'll take a nose dive before you work yourself up to righteous anger." He looked at Blair and shook his head. "Actually, I don't think you could manage indignant."

Blair gave him a weak smile. "Right now, irritated even sounds like too much work. He leaned his forehead into Jim's shoulder. Jim kept him there for a few moments, assessing his guide's status. He made a decision.

"I know you're beat, but go hop in the shower, and I'll bring your sweats in. A good soak will relax you." Blair nodded and shuffled off. Jim locked up the loft for the night. Once the water was running, he ducked into the bathroom, dropping off Blair's favorite gray sweat pants and an old T-shirt he often slept in, then ran upstairs to change himself. When Blair emerged toweling off his wet hair, he was already turning down the covers on the futon.

"Do I get some cookies, too, Mom? And a bedtime story?"

"Very funny, Sandburg. I'm managing you, not mothering you. There's a difference."

"Oh, I see. And the difference would be?"

"Don't get technical, just get in," Jim said. Even dead tired, Blair could make him laugh. As soon as Blair ducked under the covers, he clicked out the lights and perched on the side of the futon. "Scoot over, Chief. We need some bonding time before you drop off."

Blair sat up straight. "We - we always go upstairs."

"Not tonight. I don't want you traipsing around the loft. Now lie down." He waited until his guide settled in again. "Close your eyes. This time, it's my turn to shelter you. Let it go, Chief. Let it go."

"But..."

"No." There was no point trying to match words with Sandburg. Jim scooted down and laid a hand on Blair's chest, feeling the warmth through the blankets. The connection was immediate. He felt Blair sigh and relax, arguments over. "Like I said, Chief," he whispered. "Let it go. My turn."

Blair drifted to sleep quickly, but Jim remained. Slowly, his guide's barriers settled and held firm. It wasn't enough to last long, but for the time, it would have to do. In the wee hours of the morning when he finally climbed the stairs to his own bed, he wished he could do more. 

&&&&&

Jim checked the security before he entered the safe house. Everything seemed normal. The uniformed officers Simon had placed on duty were all reliable. The sounds from within the house told him that Kinnick was already up and about. Jim grabbed his stash from the bakery before leaving the truck. Leave it to Sandburg to suggest it before he took off for school. 

Kinnick was seated at the small table in the kitchen. "There's coffee," he said, gesturing toward the counter. "I found mugs in the cupboard to the right. I assume you drink coffee."

"You assume right," Jim answered. "How is Molly?"

Kinnick's businesslike demeanor faded. "Scared, confused, angry. Hell, what do I know? She wasn't Michael's blood, but she was every inch Michael's child. He was determined to keep her shielded, and now I've let them both down. Damn that stupid Price for opening his big mouth."

"You did your best," Jim said, accepting the coffee. "You're doing everything you can."

"Maybe." Kinnick pushed back his chair. "I want Molly out, completely, and I need this deal to do it. I owe Michael that much. She never needed to hear that."

"That's why we're here. Build a good case and we buy you a solid ticket out. Not even Price can screw that up."

"That son of a bitch." His voice was low, but there was no mistaking his anger. "How could he say that in front of Molly? I think she cried half the night."

"You won't get an argument from me," Jim said darkly. "The man's a menace."

Kinnick looked at him skeptically. "That should be amusing. I thought you law enforcement types would be more chummy. What did he do to get on your shit list?"

"You saw how he treated Sandburg. I don't forget things like that." Jim didn't miss Kinnick's attitude. He couldn't quite hold back the outburst that followed. "What? You think he's just a guide? Not worth it? You protect Molly. Even if you can't see Sandburg as a real person, you should understand it at that level."

Kinnick bristled, and then nodded. "Last night - Molly - the whole idea makes my skin crawl, but he did a good thing for her. Maybe you could tell him it was a help."

"He's not some kind of a parasite," Jim snapped. "He asked your permission, and hers. Interceding for someone like that is a sacrifice for an empath, a huge drain on his resources, not some kind of sick thrill. He placed himself at risk for someone he hardly knows. Stack that up against your prejudice. I hope you don't forget that."

Kinnick shook his head. "It's not natural. Lurking around in someone's mind like that. I don't know how you stand it."

"Don't believe everything you read in Sentinel 101. What Sandburg does is more like draining infection from a wound than invading a soul." It was all Jim could manage to not lose his temper. He pushed his chair back angrily and went to stand by the window. By now, Blair was already at work, but he should have a quiet day. He needed a quiet day. Damn people and their stupid attitudes. 

"Look, Ellison, forget it," Kinnick said. "He's your guide, and I don't need to have an opinion. I want this to work, Ellison. I apologize for offending you."

"Fine." Jim turned around. "We both do our part. You'll be on your way, and I'll be on mine. First of all, what made you pull the plug? It's time for you to quit holding back if I'm going to help you."

"Ruberto. He wants to formalize an engagement with Molly. Immediately. He was planning a weekend on his yacht, leaving this evening. I couldn't wait."

"And you had no choice but to accept, I imagine. You couldn't even stall him off?" Jim asked. "Even a couple of days?"

"I tried. He wasn't taking no for an answer. I could call in this morning, maybe buy a little more time."

"I'll give you a secure phone, if you want to try." He shook his head. "Shit. She's just a kid. What is Lazar thinking? He could have plenty of women. Why Molly?"

"Michael kept her innocent so she could have her own life. Ruberto sees that as a blank slate to write on. He wants a wife. An obedient, manageable wife. You have mistresses for the other."

"Okay, so Lazar jumped the gun. Were you prepared?"

"Yes, and no. There are some - things - that might be important to have."

"And you don't have them," Jim guessed. "Where are they, and what are they?"

"Well, that's the real question, isn't it? Are you driving? If I'm going to do this, I need to leave before Price shows up."

"I said I'd help and I meant it. Talk to Molly. I'll call Banks and get another sentinel to take my place here at the house."

&&&&&

"Molly? Come on, sissy, I need you to wake up."

"Paul?" Molly sat up in bed, and rubbed at her eyes, trying to bring the image of Paul's face into focus. Her head felt like it was about to split open.

"Are you awake?" Paul asked. "Detective Ellison and I need to leave for a little while. I didn't want you to wake up and be scared."

"I'll get dressed. I want to come." She threw back the covers and sat up. Her head spun, and instead of bounding of the bed, she sat there, frozen. He couldn't leave her. She couldn't be alone, not in this horrible place.

"No, you can't. Now don't get upset. We'll only be gone a few hours. You can get up when you're ready." He gestured to a bag beside the bed. "There're clothes and things for you in there. Detective Ellison even brought you some muffins. I guess the guide told him you liked them."

"Uh - okay. Really, Paul, I don't want to stay here alone. It will just take a second."

"Molly, you really can't come. And you won't be alone. There are officers here. 

You won't even miss us."

"Paul, please..." she pleaded.

He shook his head and shut the door. 

Molly leaned back on the pillows. She felt just awful, and tears were just around the corner again. Maybe she was getting the flu. Maybe Paul was right. She could just stay and rest.

&&&&&

Jason Phillips checked his watch, his morning already shot to hell. He made a point of always being on time, and this meeting with his boss had been scheduled for over a week. Damn Price for barging in without an appointment. He was already a half-hour behind schedule and hadn't even gotten in the door. Lydia Barr, the administrative assistant, gave him a sympathetic look.

"Mr. Phillips, are you sure you don't want some coffee or something? It would make me feel better, you know."

"Lydia, you've already apologized, and you didn't have to. What were you supposed to do? Trip Price before he got in the door? I know you told him the boss was booked. He just doesn't care."

"I've worked here for nearly thirty years, and that man is the only one who's ever gotten past me. I can't tell you how embarrassed I am, not to mention the fact that Mr. Jeffers is going to kill me."

"Lydia, Jeffers knows the score. He doesn't expect miracles. Price is Attila the Hun when it comes to office protocol." The sound of angry voices came through the door again. Phillips could pick up bits of conversation. Price wanted Simon Banks with his head on a pole. Who knew what he had up his sleeve? Obviously, he was trying to bully his way into something. He pitied Simon. It wasn't as if he hadn't tried to warn him. "Look, Lydia, they're still fighting it out in there. I'm going back to my office. Would you give me a call when this finishes?"

"I'll do that Mr. Phillips. I swear, ten more minutes of that man shouting and I'm calling SWAT."

Phillips chuckled. "Not a bad idea, but on what grounds?"

Lydia gave him a dark look and turned back to her computer. "Terrorist attack. Wouldn't be far from the truth. I'd probably get a medal."

&&&&&

Blair closed the door to his office. He was tempted to lock it, but didn't. From his vantage point at his desk he could just see the outline of the sign he had taped to the glass, the one that said "Office Hours Cancelled". Jim had insisted. No meetings, no stress, call every two hours and check in. As much as it wounded his pride, he could hardly blame Jim. He'd been a mess last night. He hadn't even stayed awake long enough to bond completely. His barriers wouldn't stand much today. 

So, that was that. Keep all contact with the potentially hostile to a minimum. Some guide he was. Jim was senior sentinel prime of Cascade, and deserved more than a guide that needed seclusion to get through the day. Other than a quick trip to pick up new glasses, he was supposed to hole up here like the basket case he was. 

The glasses. Another sore point, another argument lost. He could make do just fine with his old pair, but no, Jim insisted on replacing the ones that had been mangled. Even though he contributed as much of his paycheck as possible, he felt awful about Jim absorbing so many expenses for him. He always spent way more than the standard stipend, and that didn't include all the incidentals like glasses and books. It certainly didn't include spur-of-the-moment wardrobe adjustments, like the one last night. The spontaneous nature of the gesture touched him deeply, but not without regrets.

He dug a sheet of folded notebook paper out of his pocket and spread it on the desk. If he hadn't felt so totally overwhelmed it would have made him laugh out loud. Jim, in very Jim-like fashion, had made him a prioritized list. Today, by sentinel pronouncement, was going to be focused. So much for the patented Sandburg multi-tasking. Oddly enough, it didn't make him angry. Jim was just trying to help the only way he knew how.

Number One on the ten commandments according to Ellison was work on his dissertation chapter. He always put the dissertation off until last. It didn't have the immediacy of preparing for a lecture or writing a test. He'd cancelled meetings with Dr. Clancy twice because he wasn't ready. They were supposed to review his testing strategy for Jim's sensory acuity, and Dr. Clancy was the Rainier guru where study design was concerned. His dissertation was essentially stalled until those details were ironed out. As a trade-off, Jim had pretty much promised to go along with anything if - and it was a big if - Blair could make major progress on the design today. Considering Jim's aversion to being, as he put it, a lab rat, it was an amazing leap of faith.

Well, he wasn't about to waste it. He cleared all the other papers off his desk and piled them on the floor. From the back of one of the filing cabinets he retrieved the special lockbox Jim had gotten for him. He kept everything concerning his sentinel under lock and key, hidden away, when he left it in his office at all. Carefully he spread the papers in front of him and dove into the project at hand. 

&&&&&

Kinnick was sweating and swearing under his breath. He was so nervous he'd misdialed the safe combination twice. This was Paul's home, he knew it like the back of his hand, and it felt more like walking into a mine field. Ellison was keeping watch. You couldn't have better security than that. Unfortunately, logic didn't banish the images of his eventual fate if he were caught.

He removed the ledgers, each carefully sealed. They were heavy and awkward, but priceless. Before they'd finally made the transition to computers, the Lazar organization had been steadfastly traditional. Old man Lazar kept the ledgers in his own hand as a private record. Every killing, shake-down, and bribe given in during his tenure were in these books, at least until Ruberto had arrived. Michael had spirited them out. At the time, he had jokingly called them insurance. Paul was certain he never had any intention of using them. He just didn't trust them to go to Ruberto, who was an unknown. So they had come here, locked carefully away.

People inside the organization joked about the Lazar Ledgers as if they were a myth. Michael would always give him this little smile, just between the two of them. If they only knew.

Ellison was waiting at the door for him. "How did you know?" he asked.

"Heard you close and lock the safe. Figured you were done."

Paul set the ledgers down on the table and went back for another stack. He'd been pleasantly surprised with Ellison. They got on well together, considering he was a cop. Under other circumstances, they might have been friends. "I've never spent time around a sentinel," he commented as they worked. "It takes some getting used to. Do you listen to everything?"

"God forbid. It's usually a battle not to listen. Try sleeping when you can hear a faucet dripping in the building next door. That's where the guide comes in. When Blair's around, I can do the filtering with almost no effort. When he's gone, I have to do it consciously. Believe me, it's a lot easier when he's nearby."

"Ellison, I just don't get it. If it's easier, then why is he at the University? Why don't you keep him in his place? He's your property." Anger flared in Ellison's eyes. "Sorry," Paul added hastily. "I just thought that was the whole point. The guide serves the sentinel."

"Yeah, well that's what they'd like you to believe," Ellison said, stacking ledgers in one of the cartons they'd brought with them. "I never wanted to own someone. Like you said, property. That's essentially what happens when you bond. For that matter, Blair never wanted to give up his life to be a guide."

Kinnick stared at the man across the table. He'd never expected Ellison to get angry. "I thought guides needed to be bonded. The sentinels take care of them so they don't need to have a job, or deal with the emotions of other people."

"You know, that's the irony." Ellison savagely tore of sections of tape to seal one of the boxes. "The act of bonding strips away the ability of empaths to maintain their own barriers. Before Sandburg bonded, he could function just fine. Now, if he goes too long without me, he could wind up in a coma. The only reason he needs my shielding now is because he gave his own up to help me. How's that for a tradeoff?"

"I didn't know," Kinnick stammered. 

"Does it really make any sense? That being an empath means you have no ideas or dreams of your own? No right to an independent life? He's a person. I want him to be his own person. For me, that's the only way it feels right." 

"I had no idea." Kinnick shook his head. It was just too much to think about. "I think we're done here. Oh, wait, one more thing." He disappeared into a nearby bedroom, and returned carrying a picture. He held it out for Ellison to see. "For Molly. It's Michael and her mother. I know you're supposed to leave everything behind, but when this all goes down, she should at least have that much." He added another sheaf of papers to the files. "Those are our passports, birth certificates, Molly's school and medical records, adoption papers, Michael and her mother's marriage license, stuff like that. I want them with us."

Jim nodded. "Good thinking. You planned ahead." They each grabbed a box and stowed them in the truck. "Was that the last of it? Back to the safe house?" Jim asked.

Kinnick sat silent for a moment. "There are other things. We've been lucky so far."

Jim studied him carefully. "It's your call. Maybe you should try to make your deal. What we picked up this morning is pretty damning. Maybe you don't need to take any more risks."

"Am I going to be dealing with Price? Then I need everything I can get my hands on. Pull over for a minute, will you?"

Jim frowned. "Sure, but I don't like being out here. We're pretty vulnerable, and we're working without backup." 

"You have the secure phone. I need to call Lazar. I'm going back in."

Jim hesitated and took the phone out of his jacket pocket. "You'll be completely exposed. You don't have to do this. I can't guarantee your safety."

"Safe," Kinnick scoffed. "What's safe? I haven't been safe, really safe, since Michael died. He was a lot better at this. Without the more recent stuff, Ruberto will still be on the loose. Molly will never be safe. Hand me the phone."

"I should call in backup, just in case it goes sour on us. We could come in and get you."

"You call in backup and you sign my death warrant. It's solo or not at all. I just want your word; Molly is taken care of, no matter what."

"Done. If I can't, then Banks will. He's a man of his word." Jim handed him the phone.

&&&&&

Molly sat quietly at the kitchen table. Paul and Ellison had been gone a long time. She'd nibbled at the muffins, but the food didn't settle on her stomach well. The headache was back. She felt hot and flushed whenever someone came near her. 

The officers guarding the house seemed nice enough. One of them had invited her to come into the living room and watch television. He'd even tried to strike up a conversation. It had been - awful. They'd been watching the news, and a story about a fire killing two children had been on. It was heartbreaking, and Officer Frazier had started talking about his own two little girls. Uncomfortable had turned to unbearable. Her heart pounded, and she couldn't breathe. She'd fled to the bedroom, shaking. Frazier had been apologetic, checking on whether she was okay. Mercifully, he'd finally left her alone.

She'd finally pulled herself together and came out when the other sentinel arrived. Lisa somebody was a tall, imposing woman, with a no-nonsense way about her. She seemed very like Sentinel Ellison, rather stern and aloof. Maybe all sentinels were that way. Her guide Karl was like Blair; gentle and soft-spoken. She'd heard them whispering to Officer Frazier, and Karl had come out to the kitchen. He'd made her tea, asked if she needed anything. He was trying to be kind, but her skin almost burned when he came close. When he left, he'd looked at her strangely.

She hated this place. She needed to get away from all these strange people, maybe even see a doctor. She had a plan; her phone, her poor dead phone. Paul had been so angry he'd put a new battery in as soon as he'd found her. No one had thought to take it from her in last night's confusion. She could call Kayla, and stay with her until Paul straightened things out. Paul might be angry at first, but he'd understand. All it would take is one call. Kayla would come, she could run out and they'd be gone before anyone knew.

More people were coming in. More arguing. She couldn't take any more. She slipped the phone out of her pocket and dialed.

&&&&&

"Sentinel Pais, you are relieved. The watch is ours." GDP Senior Sentinel Sayre held out his credentials.

Lisa Pais was having none of it. She examined the badge and returned it. "Okay, so we know who you are. This is a Major Crime operation. No one relieves me except Captain Banks, or my Senior Prime."

Sayre stared at her dismissively. "This operation is now under the authority of District Attorney Price. Additional personnel are on their way. As I said, you may leave now."

"Not a chance," Pais retorted. She was nose to nose with Sayre, aggression pouring off her. Karl was right behind her, stroking her arm, trying to keep things in check. Any sentinel to sentinel confrontation could be highly unpredictable. "Those GDP flashes don't mean a thing to me. You'll leave until I have proper authorization from Cascade PD and Major Crime." 

"We'll see about that. Where is Kinnick? And the girl?"

"This is none of your concern. Karl, call Captain Banks."

Sayre brushed past her. He glared at Molly, sitting alone in the kitchen. She shrank away from him, and he ignored her. "Sentinel Pais, I demand to know why Paul Kinnick is not in custody."

"Custody implies an arrest, in case you hadn't noticed," Lisa said sarcastically. "Kinnick is not under arrest. He came in voluntarily. Now stand down. The GDP is not the final authority in Cascade. This is not your case."

"Uh, Lisa?" Karl was standing with a grimace on his face. "You might want to turn down your hearing, because Captain Banks wants to talk with you."

"I'll bet he does," Lisa said, snatching the phone. "Yes, sir. GDP Sentinel Sayre. That's what he says, by the authority of the DA." She pulled the phone away from her ear. Simon's bellow could be heard clearly in the rest of the room. "Yes, sir. Would you like to inform him yourself, Captain?" She held out the phone to Sayre. She drifted back a few steps to stand by Karl. She leaned close and whispered, "This should be fun."

She noticed Molly, standing in the hallway. The girl looked terrified. "Are they going to arrest us?"

"No," Lisa said emphatically. "Molly, don't you worry about a thing. Karl? What is it?"

Beside her, Karl was watching Molly intently, eyes wide. The GDP guide cut between them, staring at Molly. "You idiot," he snapped at Karl. "Didn't you scan her?"

Lisa moved immediately. No one spoke to her guide in such a tone. "Back off." She was momentarily distracted as Molly fled back to the kitchen.

The GDP guide went to his sentinel's side, on his knees, waiting obediently in the working position. Sayre's conversation with Banks went on for several minutes, but his responses got shorter and shorter. Lisa and Karl exchanged a small grin. Not many people outlasted Simon Banks in an all out argument. Sayre was aiming for a poker face, but it was easy to see he was on the losing end, at least for now. The call ended, and he returned the phone to Lisa, who smiled just for effect. "We will both remain until further notice," Sayre growled.

"You can do whatever. I'm sure not leaving," Lisa sniped. "I'm sure Captain Banks will have things straightened out in no time."

Sayre stepped forward aggressively, but his guide interrupted him. "Excuse me, Sentinel Sayre? May I speak?" Sayre's guide remained on his knees, eyes on the floor.

"Yes, Brad," Sayre said briskly. He gave Lisa a smug look. "At least my guide is well trained," he said, pointedly referring to Karl.

"The girl, Sentinel. We need to notify the home office and take her into custody. She's an empath."

"Are you sure?" Sayre demanded.

"I scanned her. Her emotional levels are not normal for a citizen. She must be a rogue, hiding her empathy."

"Are you out of your mind?" Lisa demanded. "She's been under a huge emotional strain. Our Guide Prime noted her condition last night. You're not taking her anywhere."

"Molly is different, but that doesn't make her a guide," Karl blurted out. "It certainly doesn't make her a rogue." 

"Sentinel Pais, take your guide in hand!" Sayre shouted. "Is this how they do things in Major Crime! Disgraceful! No wonder they wanted us called in." He scowled at Karl, who had instinctively moved closer to Lisa. "On your knees, guide. Show your respect, or I'll have you delivered to Correction along with the girl."

"You'll do no such thing," Lisa said, stepping protectively in front of Karl. "Come near my guide and you'll go no further. Molly Kinnick is a protected witness, not the object of some misdirected GDP witch hunt."

Sayre had his leash in hand. "Empath detention takes precedence. You will not interfere when I take her into custody." He stormed toward the door and stopped dead. When he turned, his fury was obvious. "She's gone!" he shouted. "Where is she?"

&&&&&

Blair ignored the first knock. It was probably one of his students. It went against the grain to ignore whoever it was, but he had promised Jim.

The second set of soft raps got him to look up. The blurred figure visible through the frosted glass wasn't a student. He hurried over to the door. "Dr. Woodward, what are you doing down here?" He ushered the older man in. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ignore you. Well, I meant to ignore you, but I didn't know it was you. I mean..."

Woodward smiled broadly and laughed. "I get it, Blair. From the looks of your desk, you're getting something accomplished."

Blair was busy trying to clear a chair for his mentor. "My long delayed study design."

"Ah. Clancy mentioned you were having problems getting it whipped into shape."

Blair cringed inwardly. It was another bad sign if they were discussing him. "It's just been hard to find an uninterrupted block of time. It's not the kind of thing you can do in spurts. I know I'm behind and everything."

"Blair, slow down. That wasn't a criticism. Working with a Dark Sentinel is groundbreaking research. It's not as if you can copy or modify an experimental design from another study. Do you mind if I take a peek?"

Blair could hardly say no. He motioned Dr. Woodward toward his desk. Woodward read carefully for a few minutes. "Well, Clancy is the expert, but I'm sure he'll be very pleased with this. Have you made your appointment yet?"

"N...no. I wasn't sure it was ready."

"Well, if my opinion counts, it's more than ready. You don't want it too perfect, my boy," Woodward said with a chuckle. "Heavens, you wouldn't want Clancy to feel unneeded or something." He sat down in the chair Blair had just uncovered. "That isn't why I came down here. I really think we need to have a talk."

Reluctantly, Blair sat down. The axe was going to fall.

"Blair, quit acting like the Inquisition just arrived at your door. I've known you since you arrived at Rainier, and I've been shepherding grad students through higher education for almost forty years. Give me a little credit. I knew we were pushing it when we set this plan in motion." 

Blair started to protest. He couldn't let this happen. Dr. Woodward waved him into silence. 

"Shhh. Hear me out. I also knew you wouldn't buy it if we didn't. You've always been a brilliant student. You'd read a watered down proposal as a lack of faith in you." 

Blair didn't answer at all. He hated to admit it. He and Jim had discussed the possibility of going back part-time, but he hadn't wanted to. He was so eager to get his life back that half-measures hadn't been a serious consideration.

"You know how I feel about you, Blair. I want you to tell me what your worst fears were when you walked into my office yesterday," he said gently. "What are you afraid of?"

Blair felt sick. He didn't want to talk about this, but how could he refuse? Dr. Woodward had been so good to him. "Do you want the list?" he said reluctantly. "The GDP never really lets up. They want me to fail. Some of the students were upset about the grading on the research paper, and I was late returning the midterm they took most recently. Some of them resent being taught by a guide just on general principle. I'm afraid the University will reverse itself and ask me to leave."

"I see. Blair, part of the mission of the University is to champion truth and learning. That includes overcoming prejudice. And grades? Students always complain about their grades. Besides, I know you, and know your work. You never fail to have a grading rubric, and you follow it religiously. You always give me a copy, with your exam, regular as clockwork. As for the turn around time, you're well within the acceptable window. Some of your colleagues haven't even administered their second midterm, much less graded it. What else?"

"There needs to be more? Well, I've missed class. I miss office hours. Look at my door. Talk about being caught red-handed."

"So what if you've missed class? I miss class occasionally. Everyone does. You've always notified me, arranged for a sub and supplied the lecture notes, done whatever was necessary. It's not excessive. Besides, we knew when we offered the fellowship that you had a sentinel to take care of. If anything, I expected more disruptions. Is that all? Has someone implied that your performance is substandard in some way?"

"Not in so many words. It's more of a feeling." Blair looked down. "This is so embarrassing."

"Is that why you taught the night class?" Woodward asked pointedly.

"I guess. I don't want to give anyone ammunition. Then I fall over my own feet and screw myself up for days. Jim's upset with me - well, maybe more worried than anything."

"Blair, you had no obligation to cover that class. Someone took advantage of you, and I'm going to tighten up procedures on that incident. I want to reaffirm this single point with you. You don't have to do anything - I mean anything - beyond the specific duties we agreed upon. From now on, any additional requests for your time need to be run through me, or in my absence, Dr. Clancy."

"I don't imagine Dr. Clancy is too pleased with me. I was kind of out of it during class yesterday."

"Clancy's a task master on the academic side of things and a big marshmallow on the other. I hate to tell you, son, but you look like you've been run over by a truck. Before you came in yesterday morning, I'd just gotten off the phone with Clancy. He was chewing me out for pushing you so hard. He suggested giving you a mandatory week off." Blair was shaking his head frantically. "Relax, I knew you wouldn't go for it. I do want to make some changes, though."

"All right," Blair said. "You're the boss." This was it. They were going to send him away.

"I didn't expect to do it without input from you. I think we can safely cut down your office hours. I'm going to arrange for a work-study student to assist with paperwork and some of the grading. I have a senior in mind who would be very competent. Finally, as much as I love your essay tests, I want at least half of your final exam to be objective. I'll help you prepare the questions."

"But I've always written my tests that way. The essays are so much more meaningful."

"Yes, they are, but we're talking about an intro class. It's a reasonable compromise. I hope you'll agree."

Blair finally gave a reluctant nod. "I don't like it, but I see your point."

"I haven't finished. I'd like to tell you about my new research project. It's a totally new area. In fact, I think you'll have some amazing insights."

"You have a new project?" Blair asked. It was unusual for someone of Woodward's stature and age to start from scratch. "Really?"

"You were the inspiration, by the way. When you resurfaced after that horrible woman kidnapped you, I did a lot of thinking about how life must have been for you - before. I've begun an in-depth investigation of empathy. Not guide status, but empathy as it's existed since ancient times."

"I'm surprised," Blair stammered. "Not exactly an active field." He smiled. "I hope you're not planning on getting funding from the GDP."

Woodward gave him a disgusted look. "Surely you jest. Those idiots equate any form of empathy with functioning as a guide. I'm talking about empathy as it existed before the latest era of formal sentinel and guide pairings. The genetic profile didn't just appear out of the blue. It stands to reason that guide genetics are as stable through time as sentinel genes are. It's been part of the human condition whether society formalized it or not."

"Like the writings of ancient sentinels," Blair said.

"Exactly. Granted, the sentinel is the flashier half of the partnership, but I've found many references that can only be referring to empaths, at least in my opinion." 

"That's a very controversial statement, Dr. Woodward," Blair said carefully.

"No doubt. No one wants to ask these questions, let alone find out the answers. If empaths are so helpless, what were they doing all those centuries? They were surviving somehow, or the genetic template would have disappeared. Common sense says they were doing just fine. There's every indication, even in my preliminary study, that individuals with empathic ability have functioned in society for years as negotiators, mediators, peacemakers of all varieties. Many traditional healers have abilities we would associate with empaths. Interestingly enough, none of them seem to be in what we would consider a guide relationship."

"Dr. Woodward, that kind of statement goes beyond controversial. It won't be well received. You're really starting to worry me." Blair closed his eyes. An avalanche of painful memories swept over him. "I don't want anything to happen to you. You don't know what they're capable of."

"Exactly why an old buzzard like me needs to be the one to say it. Honestly, what could the GDP do to me? Make me retire? Big deal. I've come to appreciate how much energy it must absorb to function with your emotions exposed. The current guide system aside, it takes remarkable strength and resilience. We've built a system that treats empaths as though they were the opposite. I suspect if we examine it, that the social structure we've imposed is creating an impression of helplessness that is relatively recent. Empaths are remarkable, whether we've always recognized them as such or not. You are not failing, Blair. If anything, we - society - is failing you."

"I - I don't know what to say."

"It pertains to our discussion, actually. Cut yourself a break. Take my advice, and my help. It won't be a one-way street. I'm very excited to have you look at some of the materials I've found. It's an anthropologist's dream. Empathy is a unique way of thinking and feeling that crosses cultures and centuries. If we've misinterpreted it, it's an error we should correct. I'd value your insights." 

"I'd love to. In fact, I'd be honored." Blair looked at the sea of papers on his desk with a sinking feeling. When would he ever find the time?

"Blair Sandburg, I'm really going to have to work on you. Just because I brought it up doesn't mean you have to do it NOW. I was thinking we could schedule something between semesters. If he's willing, I'd like to include Detective Ellison. Have you both for dinner at the house. How does that sound?"

"It sounds great."

"Good." Woodward stood up. "Now, I want you to put all those worries out of your head. Call Clancy. I happen to know he's free today."

"Oh, I don't know." Blair looked at the papers spread in front of him. "I think I should really clean this up before I show him."

"Blair!" Woodward cast a despairing look to the heavens. "I'm going to say it again, it doesn't need to be perfect. Call him and go today. Humor me, please?"

"Yes, Professor. Thank you for coming." Blair smiled fondly at the white-haired man as he disappeared through the door. Jim kept telling him to have confidence in Woodward. Maybe he should pay attention. He picked up the phone and dialed Dr. Clancy's number.

&&&&&

Kayla brushed back her very blonde hair. "Molly, what are you doing out here? This is crazy. I drive all the way over here, you run out in the street and we drive off? You're not slumming with some guy, are you? Honey, you can do WAY better than someone who lives in this neighborhood."

"It's complicated. I'm not sure I can explain. I just need to get away from here, fast."

"Well, that's fine," Kayla said with a sniff. "It's not like there's anything to stay for. I can run you home, and you can change, and..."

"NO! Not home!" Molly cried out.

"Okay, okay, sure. Not home. Calm down, Mol." Kayla looked at her and shook her head.

"I'm sorry." Molly was on the edge of total panic. She didn't know where to go or what to do. "Look, I just need to stay away from home or places someone would know me, okay?"

"Fine," Kayla said impatiently. "Where do you want me to go, then? Are we just going to drive around all day?"

"I don't know. Give me a minute to think."

"Molly, you don't look so good. What are you messed up in?"

"Look, I just can't talk about it right now. Let's just say Paul is going to be mad at me and leave it at that."

"Sure. Paul's way overprotective, if you ask me. He dragged you off last night like some hillbilly father with a shotgun. Hey, I have an idea. I was talking to Trisha after you left last night, and she found this gorgeous boutique place - just opened downtown - very chic."

A new shop. No one would know her. Molly tried to rally some enthusiasm. "Perfect. Let's go all out. Lead the way, super - K." 

They both laughed. It was an old joke from their childhood. Molly shrank into the seat and shivered. She had a feeling nothing was going to be a joke anymore.

&&&&&

Jim checked his watch. Other than a few snippets of conversation, Jim had no idea what was going on. The whole operation could be over. Kinnick had been inside for over an hour. Simon was going to blow a gasket when he found out, not to mention the fact he hadn't contacted the safe house since they'd left. He'd shut down all the radios and other communications gear. He didn't want to take the chance that Lazar had equipment that scanned for surveillance near the compound.

He could see Kinnick's car, parked in plain sight in front of the estate. Jim had listened in to every word of the cover story Kinnick had concocted to cover his late appearance. Jim hadn't been totally convinced, but Kinnick had insisted Lazar would buy it. He'd been sketchy about what he actually planned to do, but Jim had assumed it had to do with computer access. Kinnick was a compute expert, and he'd made it clear Lazar didn't run the kind of organization you could hack into from the outside. 

Jim understood the urgency. Computer files from the Lazar organization would buy Kinnick anything he wanted. The Lazar family was a far-flung operation. If Price got in the way, Kinnick could pack it up and make a deal with someone else. Jim wanted a crack at the crime in his own city first, but if Kinnick walked away, it would be understandable. Price was a menace.

Listening intently, he caught a moment of Kinnick's voice. The tone didn't sound panicky or stressed. He was fairly certain the man he was talking with was Ruberto Lazar. If that were the case, he'd have to bluff his way out, maybe even wait until it was reasonable to leave for an early lunch. 

Jim wished Blair was at his side. Long distance listening was tough under any circumstances. To make things more complicated, the Lazar estate served as the main administrative offices for the entire operation. There were at least ten people Jim could count as permanent, with others coming and going. It was a lot of information to filter. Without his guide, it required every ounce of his concentration. 

He lost track of Kinnick for a moment. He and Ruberto had gone into a vault of some kind. He looked anxiously at the front gates of the compound. Under better circumstances, he would have made a circuit, looking for the easiest was to enter if Kinnick had to be pulled out by force.

There - Kinnick's voice again, still in normal tones. Jim breathed a sigh of relief. As much as he hated it, he really couldn't do anything other than wait. It was more dangerous for both of them with each passing moment, but so far, they were in the clear. 

&&&&&

"Hasn't called? For how long?"

An angry Simon Banks was not a pretty sight. Lisa Pais stood at attention and answered as calmly as she could. "Detective Ellison called and asked me to come in and cover the safe house. He and Mr. Kinnick left immediately after we arrived."

"You didn't think to ask where they were going? Didn't think to contact me when half the day slipped by?"

"No, sir. This is Ellison's case. We didn't go to the station, we came directly here. I had no reason to think that Ellison hadn't cleared this through chain of command. The girl was here; they indicated they'd only be gone a few hours."

"The girl. So now we've lost the girl and Kinnick? Two for two, Pais." Banks whirled to face the surveillance teams, who had all been called into the house. "We have three teams and this - this child leaves and no one does a thing?"

"It happened pretty fast, Captain. She must have been waiting. The car barely even slowed down when she ran out and hopped in."

"She must have had a phone. Kinnick surrendered his. What was I thinking? Damn near every teenager in Cascade has their own phone." He sent another disgusted look toward the surveillance teams. "I don't suppose we're lucky enough to have a make on the car?"

"Yes, sir. We're running the plates now."

"Small comfort." Simon stood silent, glaring at the small group in front of him. Things couldn't get much worse. "All right. Leave one team in place. Everyone else, go back to the station. Pais, you're in charge of the search. I want APB's on both vehicles, and pull all our research materials. Let's try to figure out who Molly called."

Everyone started to leave except Pais. "Excuse me, Captain, we have another problem. The GDP guide with Sentinel Sayre said Molly was a rogue empath. Sayre was about to place her in custody when we discovered she was gone."

"He what?" Simon asked, aghast. "In custody? You don't haul an undercover witness off to guide training."

"Apparently, the GDP does, sir. When we start looking for her, I'm afraid we're going to have some competition."

"The GDP is not - I repeat, is not - going to take that girl out of our protection. Karl, did you know this? That she was a guide?"

Karl looked at his sentinel before answering. "Sir, I don't believe she is. Blair left a message for the next guide coming on duty to watch her carefully. He thought the situation was putting her under great emotional stress. He identified her emotional signature as unusual, but nothing more. I would trust the assessment of the Guide Prime. He's spent a great deal of time with her. The GDP sentinel made a pronouncement in thirty seconds."

Simon frowned. With his history, of all people, Sandburg would detect an empath coming on line. "He said nothing about her being a guide?"

"Not at all, sir. She seemed very emotional, but I wouldn't have identified her as a guide either. I think the GDP is in error." Karl looked apprehensively at Lisa. A guide just didn't make negative comments about the GDP without seeing a great deal of punishment in his future.

"I'll contact Commander Slater. What a mess. Pais, pull anyone in you think you need. If this one gets any further out of our control, we'll never get it back."

&&&&&

She saw them coming.

She was standing near the window, trying to fake some interest in the fragrances and perfumes while Kayla had a facial with some exotic botanical. Two pairs, sentinel and guide, in full GDP uniform, were working their way through the pedestrian mall, examining each face as they passed.

She should have been more careful. She'd been so grateful to get away, she hadn't considered anything else. Kayla's little sports car wouldn't have been hard to trace. Why was she always so stupid? She backed away from the window to hide from their view. As the closest pair walked past, both sentinel and guide seemed to hesitate. They exchanged a few words, but kept going.

Was there some way for them to sense her? It wasn't possible, she just couldn't be a guide. She'd had all the usual screening tests. All the strange feelings she'd had since her father's death were just grief. Wasn't it natural to grieve for someone you loved? She needed to hide until she could talk to Paul. Paul would know what to do.

Her first impulse was to dash from the store and run in the opposite direction. She looked warily out the window. There could easily be more searchers. She needed to calm down and think. How would they find her? Her hair, even her clothes would easily give her away. She looked around the shop. It wasn't a clothing store, but there were plenty of accessories mixed in with the expensive cosmetics, jewelry and other goods. She chided herself for standing there, waiting to be caught. What else was she really good at in her life other than shopping? 

She moved around the shop quickly, making her selections. They could probably trace her card, but that would take time. If she got away, it didn't matter. She selected a wide flip brim hat. She could put her hair up. A colorful scarf had possibilities, as did a sarong to replace her pants. She fingered an expensive leather bag that a businesswoman might carry. Some big bangle bracelets would attract attention away from her face. Sunglasses.

Now, how to leave? Kayla was still occupied, and they couldn't leave in her car anyway. No, it would be better to keep her friend out of it. She thought to the previous evening, how Detective Ellison had effortlessly slipped out the back entrance of a store. She could do it. The other alternative was to stay here and let them take her away on a leash.

She made her purchases. Kayla looked up and smiled. Molly waved, and they exchanged a few words. As soon as everyone was occupied, she headed for the small dressing area. She changed, rolled up her own clothes up and stuffed them into the leather bag. She darted through the storage area, past boxes of merchandise and last season's clothes. 

Carefully, she pushed the fire door open just a crack. Not a GDP uniform in sight. She slipped out, trying to blend in with the other pedestrians. A Cascade PD car drove by. They would be looking for her, too. What was she going to do?

A Metro bus roared by her and pulled up to the stop. She'd never been on a bus before. How much did they cost? She had no idea. Molly groped around in her wallet, pulling out all her cash and change. She made it just before the doors closed.

&&&&&

"What do you mean, they're both gone?" WD Price had just finished a long morning in court. His intentions to see Kinnick early had fallen through. He'd sent the GDP to take charge instead. Now that he was back in the office, he'd planned to loosen his tie, enjoy a lunch brought over by his secretary from Antonio's, and get an update from the GDP sentinel in charge of Kinnick. This wasn't what he expected to hear. "What went wrong?" he demanded.

"As I said, sir. Paul Kinnick, I surmise, is with Detective Ellison, although the Major Crime personnel would not confirm that. The girl, well, I can't say. We're actively pursuing her."

"Well, I want her found, do you hear me?" Price said emphatically. "Do I need to issue a warrant? I'm sure I can think of something."

"That won't be necessary," Sayre said stiffly. "The GDP has issued a detention order. For the last hour, every division in Cascade has had her picture and description. We'll find her. After all, we're quite effective in these areas."

"A detention order? On what grounds?" Price asked. "Even I wouldn't have thought of that one."

"The girl appears to have some empathic ability. Not quite the usual profile, but at this point, it's immaterial. We've processed her under the appropriate rogue empath statutes. If it suits your purposes, once we have the girl in detention, it would be a small matter to detain Mr. Kinnick as well. After all, it's a major offense to conceal empathy in a family member."

Price's eyes gleamed with anticipation. "Well, isn't that interesting. We'll see how that changes Kinnick's negotiating position. Do you have any idea where the girl has gone?"

"We are tracing the car that picked her up. Apparently, it is licensed to the family of a close friend, a Kayla Hall. We're contacting her parents." He shrugged. "In our experience, such people are quite helpful when they realize the subject has been identified as an empath. They're usually eager to remove any possible taint from their own family."

"How soon do you think you can take her into custody?" Price asked eagerly.

"Typically, once an individual is targeted with a detention order, they are usually apprehended within twenty-four hours. There are exceptions, of course. It's possible she could obtain help. My honest opinion is that these she has no connections with the GLA, or other individuals who might shelter her. We should apprehend her shortly."

"Excellent. Keep me informed, Sentinel Sayre. I expect this will be quite rewarding for both of us."

Price settled contentedly, turning his leather office chair from side to side. This was working out better than he expected. Kinnick wouldn't be so arrogant with his sister under a cloud. What a fabulous bargaining chip.

&&&&&

Kinnick climbed into the passenger side of the car. They had prearranged this - leave his expensive sedan, walk across the park and rendezvous. Ellison scanned the area anxiously. There was no sign that Kinnick was being followed. Somehow, against all odds, they'd pulled it off.

Kinnick leaned back against the seat. "When all this is over, I'm going to buy a truck like this one. I want to remember the first moment of freedom."

Jim snickered as he started the engine. "Somehow, I don't see you as a 'truck' kind of guy." 

"Yeah? Well, maybe I'm going to be a truck guy in my next life, whatever it is."

"Did you get what you wanted?" Jim asked. "We might not be out of the woods just yet."

"Enough. I couldn't dump everything, or they would have been down on me. Ruberto called me in a couple of times. Turned out he just wanted to ask about Molly."

"I was listening. You never gave any sign you were in trouble."

"I was close. Every time someone walked in, I was jumping out of my skin. Let's get out of here."

"I should call in," Jim said. "Captain Banks isn't going to be too happy with me."

"Do it. He'll probably forgive you when he sees the evidence I brought out," Kinnick said affably. "For a cop, Ellison, you're a pretty good guy. You kept your word."

"Was there a doubt?" Jim asked evenly.

"No," Kinnick said honestly. "I chose you carefully. I wouldn't have gone to you otherwise. Price is the one I have doubts about."

Jim shook his head. "You're not alone there." He hit the speed dial for Major Crime. Jim was prepared for some typical captain-like growling, but he was taken aback by Simon's reaction. Even across the airwaves, there was no mistaking the fact that Simon Banks was a very unhappy man. Jim abruptly made a screeching left turn, reversed direction from the safe house and headed for the station.

&&&&&

Molly had been on one bus or another for what seemed like hours. When the driver or a passenger asked her a question, she got off at the next stop. Then she'd walk around for a few minutes, and catch the next bus that came along. She didn't know the routes. Most of the time, she had no idea where she was, or where she was going.

She was frightened. Every GDP or Cascade PD uniform she saw sent her heart racing. The only good news was that they seemed to ignore the buses. In that respect, it was a good place to hide. The problem was the people - so many people packed into a tiny space. They'd look at her. The expensive clothes that had gotten her out of the shopping district unnoticed stood out on the bus. She flushed under their gaze. Sometimes it hurt, which didn't make sense at all.

She was running out of cash money. Hunched into the corner of her seat, she debated her options. Her fingers ran over the raised letters of her credit card. "Molly L. Kinnick", right there in neat, block letters. Her stepfather had given her the card for her fifteenth birthday, in a big gold box with a huge blue bow. It had been such a happy time. She'd felt so grown up, so loved.

It had been fun. If she found something, she'd call him - he never minded. She could hear him smiling when he answered. Paul would scold her sometimes for interrupting him at work, but her Daddy never did. Just that big wide smile, and a kiss on the forehead. When she'd see him that evening, she'd show him, and he'd give her a hug and say, "A treasure for my treasure." He said the same thing every time. She'd been safe, although at the time, she hadn't known it or appreciated it.

Would they find her if she used it? What she wouldn't give to make a call and hear his voice again. She got off the bus, not quite sure where she was. The wind was starting to blow, and it was threatening rain. She needed to find somewhere to stay for a few hours.

The next bus to roar up had the usual placard at the front. Usually, they'd been some incomprehensible number. Route 42 or 16 Express meant nothing to her. This one gave her a glimmer of hope.

The lighted letters said, "Rainier Univ." She climbed aboard.

&&&&&

"Mr. Lazar, sir, I'm afraid I need to speak with you."

Lazar glowered at his secretary. This was an important meeting. She should know better than to interrupt. He wouldn't tolerate it. He was ready to shout when she handed him a slip of paper.

Carefully printed, in her hand, were the words, "Security Breach. Computer."

"Excuse me, gentlemen," he said to his guests. "I'll only be a moment."

He nonchalantly strolled through the elaborately carved double doors of his study. As soon as they shut, he grabbed the woman by her elbow, squeezing until she winced in pain. "What the hell are you doing?"

"There's a virus, or something like a virus, in the whole network."

"Why are you interrupting me? We have people for that," he said angrily, shaking her roughly. "What does Paul say?"

"I can't find Mr. Kinnick, and the technical people can't stop it." She was almost in tears. "I checked the security features on the system that print out every hour. There was a huge download of information. I think someone may have raided the system and launched the virus to cover it."

"Find Paul," he said fiercely. "He's the expert."

"His car's gone, sir. He didn't sign out, but the guard at the main gate says he left about an hour ago. He gave him some kind of story about taking a longer than usual lunch. Being Mr. Kinnick, he let him through."

"I see," Lazar said, very slowly. He released her elbow. "Listen to me carefully. Round up all the senior personnel on the premises. Send them to Paul's office and I'll meet them there. Do it quietly, and maybe you'll still have a job tomorrow."

"Yes, sir. I'm so sorry, Mr. Lazar."

Ruberto Lazar clenched his fists in rage. He could smell a betrayal. Paul Kinnick - it was unthinkable. He had to find out what was going on before any further damage was done.

He turned and calmed himself. It wouldn't do to let the competition know you had problems.

&&&&&

Blair carefully rechecked his materials. If he was going to meet with Dr. Clancy, he wanted everything to go perfectly. When he heard the knock on the door, he swore under his breath. Damn. He absolutely, positively could not be interrupted right now. Another knock and he sighed in resignation. He'd have to answer.

He didn't recognize the woman in the flamboyant hat and elegant clothes until the second look. "Molly? What are you - oh, my God." He barely caught her as she collapsed. 

He half-carried her to the battered couch in his office. She was coherent, but so upset that nothing she said made sense. He'd have to calm her down before he got anything useful out of her. What in the world could she be doing, wandering around, dressed like that? He was at a loss for a few moments. Molly was rocking back and forth, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. He needed something to distract her, something to focus her attention on him.

He hastily grabbed a mug and poured some lukewarm tea. "Molly? Here you go - take a sip." She grasped the mug as he coaxed her along. She seemed terribly frightened. "That's it. Why are you here? Where're Paul, and Jim?"

"They left. They left me all alone."

"Only because they needed to," Blair adlibbed. He could guess why the two men had gone off. Most likely, Kinnick was bringing out more evidence. There'd be a melt down when they discovered Molly had deserted the safe house. "They weren't going to stay away. Why didn't you wait for them? How are they going to find you?"

She crumpled before his eyes, sobbing. "Those men came, and they were all yelling, and they said I was a guide, and I ran away."

Blair grasped her hands. He couldn't let her become hysterical again. "Who said that, Molly? You're safe now, but tell me who said that. This is important."

"The GDP man, and his guide. They had uniforms, and Lisa told them to go away. I didn't like them. That other guide, Karl, said 'no' - he was nice, but they didn't listen him. They hurt me."

"Okay. But they're not here now, are they? Try not to cry. Tell me what hurts, and we'll try to fix it."

"The people on the bus, they made my head hurt. They were all angry, or sad, or wanting something." She sniffed. "It's better with you."

So that was it. Blair lowered his shields, flooding the girl with calming thoughts. He felt her relax, and lean against him. He'd tried to piece together what she'd told him. Kinnick and Jim had left. That was expected. The appearance of a GDP sentinel was not. Either the guide, the sentinel, or both of them had picked up on Molly's unusual emotional signature. It would have been a typical GDP move to take her into detention and ask questions later. No wonder she'd bolted. Thank God she had. 

Somehow, she'd gotten to Rainier. She must have come on the bus. What did a girl like Molly know about riding the bus? She'd damn near spent her life with a chauffeur. The buses headed toward the University at this time of day were normally packed. Frightened, stressed by all the turmoil, no wonder she was falling apart. That left the clothes.

"Molly, why are you all dressed up?" He pulled gently at the expensive fabric of her skirt. "Are these your things?"

She raised her head and looked at him. At least they'd managed that much progress. "I bought them. They were looking for me. I had to get away."

"They? The GDP?" She nodded.

Blair's blood ran cold. He knew more than he wanted to about being pursued by the GDP. This was serious trouble. If the GDP had issued a detention order, Molly needed to be kept completely out of sight. He needed to take her somewhere isolated where he could buy a little time. He was certain Molly wasn't an empath in the sense that qualified her to be a guide, but 'different' wasn't a distinction that was going to be valued by the GDP. They would insist on full detention, undoubtedly in the correction facility. Molly was emotionally fragile as it was. She'd given every indication of being very dependent on Paul, and before him, her stepfather. The separation would be devastating. Even a single night in Correction would break her. She'd never recover.

Blair looked around the cramped, cluttered office. He could keep her here for the moment. The first order of business was to relieve some of her stress, and get her stabilized. The illusion of normality might help. Unfortunately, it wasn't as if they could run over to the student union for a quick bite. Since Rainier was the hub of sentinel studies, it was always crawling with GDP.

"Molly?" Blair said, stroking her hands gently. "I'm going to go get us some more water and make us a fresh pot of tea. How about a chocolate bar? Are you hungry?"

"I - I think so."

"Okay. Then you sit here, and I'll be right back. Just close your eyes for a minute and try to put all those bad thoughts out of your mind." 

"You're going to leave?" she asked, grasping for his hands. "Please don't leave me here," she pleaded.

"I'm not going to leave, just go down the hall and use the vending machines. I'll be right back."

"Okay," she said. "Promise you won't be long?"

Blair nodded. "I promise, but you don't set one toe out of this office, understand?" He hustled down the hall and up the stairs. The nearest vending machines were in the first floor lobby. He frantically fed coins into the machines, swearing softly when one of them kept rejecting a perfectly good quarter. He didn't want to leave Molly any longer than necessary.

He was heading back when he happened to look out through the doublewide glass doors at the entrance to Hargrove Hall. Several groups of GDP officers, clearly visible in their striking black uniforms, were gathering at the opposite end of the quad. One of the officers was pointing toward Hargrove Hall.

Blair took off at a dead run.

&&&&&

"What the hell? What's going on?" Kinnick snarled. He braced himself against the dash as Jim took another corner at breakneck speed. "You want to get us both killed?"

"I don't know all the details," Jim said grimly. "We're not going to the safe house. We have to move you, and I'm not sure where just yet."

"You're not sure?" Kinnick nearly shouted. "Where's Molly? What have you done with her?"

"That's exactly the problem. We didn't do anything. She ran off. She ran out the door and hopped into a red car, apparently driven by a Kayla Webb. Do you know her?"

"She's Molly's best friend. Why would she run off like that?" Kinnick went quiet for a moment. "Did someone frighten her?" he asked angrily.

"Well, they've picked this Kayla up, and she's at the station. I need to talk with her, and Lisa Pais, the sentinel on duty. At a minimum, we'll keep you in a secure interview room until we can arrange a safe refuge. I don't like the idea of you going near the station, but we don't have a choice."

"No way," said Kinnick, shaking his head violently. "If you're looking for Molly, I'm going with you. You can't keep me locked up without my consent."

Jim careened around another corner. "Try to be reasonable. Your safety is a priority. You can't run around Cascade in plain view."

"Neither can Molly. If I don't go with you, I go alone. I mean it, Ellison."

There was not point in arguing further. They made the station in record time, and went directly to Simon's office. Jim was worried about parading Kinnick through the PD. Lazar had informants everywhere, even within law enforcement. Lisa Pais and Simon were both there, along with a strikingly pretty blonde girl. 

Kinnick wasted no time. Ignoring everyone else in the room, he bore down on the girl. "Kayla, quit messing around. You tell me where Molly is right now."

"I don't know where she is," she whined. She looked around the room sullenly, particularly at Lisa Pais, who had been in charge of questioning her. "They won't believe me, but it's true. She called me, I came to get her, and she didn't want to go home. We were at this little shop, and she was right there. All of a sudden, these officers were there and they dragged me down here. She must have gone somewhere, I don't know."

Kinnick sat down next to her. "Kayla, I don't know what Molly told you, or what you think is going on here, but I need you to tell me the truth. I'm not kidding. Molly's life may depend on it."

"I don't believe you," Kayla said defiantly. "Even if I did know, I probably wouldn't tell you. You're always bossing Molly around. It's not like you're her dad or anything."

Kinnick nearly lost his temper. "Kayla, stop talking like a spoiled, self-centered little brat. I boss Molly because I'm the only family she has left. She wasn't feeling well this morning. I'm worried about her. Do you think she got sick and wandered off? Think, Kayla! Did she say anything, anything at all?"

Kayla's mood finally changed, and she shook her head. "She didn't say anything, and you're right, she didn't look too good. She didn't want to go anywhere people knew her. She did say she had a really bad headache. I thought she'd feel better if we ate. We stopped to buy scones that she likes. She only ate a few bites, and I think she got sick. I just thought I could cheer her up and everything would be normal."

"You're sure she didn't talk about anything else?" Jim asked. When the girl shook her head, he gave up. Nothing in her heart rate or breathing indicated it was a lie. She wasn't going to give them anything useful. They might as well let her go. "Okay, Kayla. One of the officers will show you out." He handed her a card. "If Molly makes any contact with you, call us right away. Paul isn't kidding. She could be seriously hurt. We need to find her." Kayla nodded, mumbled something that sounded kind of like an apology, and left.

"Captain, we should keep some kind of surveillance on that girl," Jim said as soon as the door shut.

"I agree. If she contacted her once, she might do it a second time." Simon picked up the phone. "Kinnick, who else might she go to?"

"I can't think of anyone else she would call. Molly is so shy, she doesn't have a lot of real close friends. I don't know why she would run in the first place."

"I think it was the GDP," Lisa Pais said quietly. "In fact, I'm sure of it."

"What GDP?" Jim snarled, balling up his fists. "Why is the GDP anywhere near this operation?"

"That damn Price pulled a power play," Simon explained. "He sent a GDP senior sentinel in to replace Pais, who stood her ground, I'm happy to say. The brass upstairs have been fighting with Price all day about who's going to be in charge." 

"It gets worse," Lisa said grimly. "The guide for Sentinel Sayre somehow came to the conclusion Molly was a rogue empath. They were going to take her into custody."

"What?" Kinnick roared. "Molly's no empath. No one's dragging my Molly off on a leash to be a guide!"

"I would agree," Lisa continued. "So did Karl." She gently pushed her guide forward. "Karl, explain for me."

Karl eyed the others in the room warily. He wasn't accustomed to speaking directly. Until recently, Lisa had always been pretty traditional about their roles. "She did seem very disturbed. Her emotional levels were quite high, and extremely erratic. Guide Prime Sandburg had indicated she should be monitored. I did, at least until the GDP came barging in."

"Simon, you've got to keep the GDP out of this," Jim said.

"I'm doing everything I can," Simon said. "Mr. Kinnick, I assure you we're doing everything we can to locate Molly. If the GDP does take her into custody, we'll fight it on every level possible."

"Oh, my God," Kinnick said, sinking into a chair. "This can't be happening. I was trying to protect her from Lazar, and now some bureaucrat is going to take her away from me? To spend her life as a guide? Where will they take her?"

The room went very silent. Those familiar with the GDP knew precisely where Molly would be taken. Simon took a deep breath and said it aloud. "I'm sorry, Mr. Kinnick. If the GDP takes her into custody, she'll go directly to a correction facility for several days at least. They won't allow anyone near her, including you, but, as I said, we'll fight it."

"That child?" Kinnick gasped. "In a prison? Oh, no, they can't. They just can't."

"Kinnick, think," Jim pleaded. "Where would she go? Is there a special place, another friend? There's got to be someone she'd turn to for help."

"I can't think of anyone. Kayla would have been my suggestion. We could go through her address book." He closed his eyes. "It will be another trip back to the house. Lazar probably knows by now, if anyone with a brain is looking at the computers."

"I can send someone with a warrant," Jim said firmly. "No way we're going to expose you like that."

"Excuse me, Sentinel Ellison?"

Karl seemed to shrink as everyone in the room turned in his direction. "I think you might want to check with Blair. When I sat with the young woman this morning, she seemed particularly concerned that he wasn't there. I did tell her that he was at the University this morning. Perhaps she'd try to find him." He cast his eyes downward. "I should have spoken sooner." 

"She hardly knows him," Kinnick protested.

"Unless you have other suggestions, I'm going there first," Jim said firmly.

"I'll take care of the address book," Lisa volunteered. Jim heard her whisper encouragement to Karl.

Jim left, leaving Simon with the task of managing Kinnick. He was waiting for the elevator when Kinnick rushed up. "I'm going with you."

"No, you're not," Jim said adamantly. "We need to get you out of here and into another safe house. Like you said, if Lazar knows, it's too risky."

"And what better way to hurt me than hurt Molly? If either the GDP or Lazar find her before we do, nothing else matters. Don't deny me this, Ellison."

The elevator arrived. Jim didn't argue when Kinnick stepped in beside him.

&&&&&

They left the University in the Corvair. He might be jumping to conclusions. There were any number of reasons to explain a group of GDP officers on campus. It was quite a leap from tracking a conspicuous sports car to a search at the University, but the GDP had long arms. If the search had widened, it wasn't out of the question that the GDP would be stopping by his office. After all, he'd been one of a small handful of people who'd been in contact with Paul and Molly Kinnick.

Leaving the University was only a delaying tactic. Keeping the car wasn't a possibility. If the GDP took it into their heads that Molly might be with him, they'd have a warrant out for the car in a heartbeat. Blair wracked his brain for a spur of the moment plan. From the description, Molly had been identified by a senior sentinel with high GDP rank. Based on his own experience, the GDP would have a valid detention order in hand by now. Jim was an officer of the court. No matter what he felt personally, he would respect the detention order and hand Molly over. Simon would undoubtedly fight it from the standpoint of the case. Kinnick certainly had the funds to protest through the legal system, but Molly would go into immediate detention despite their efforts. The only solution was to keep them out of it for as long as possible. He couldn't even take the chance and let Jim know he was fine. Jim would be duty bound to order him back, and bring Molly with him.

That essentially ruled out the loft, or the home of any friend. Returning to the station was impossible. He needed to disappear, without leaving any evidence to incriminate either himself or Molly. It was a long shot, but it might buy enough time for some solution to materialize.

He didn't even want to think about how Jim would view a disappearance. To vanish without a trace - Jim couldn't help but think the worst. Wasn't that what all the naysayers had predicted from the beginning? That giving a guide independence was just asking for trouble? That Blair Sandburg, once a rogue, would always be a rogue? Jim had bucked every convention; given him a car, spending money, arranged his education. Blair knew if he ran, he was putting everything he cared about at risk. 

Blair took one last look at Molly. Even for his new lease on life, his freedom and his PhD, even for Jim, he couldn't send this child to the GDP. He'd have to turn his back on his bonded sentinel, at least for the short term, and tap other resources. Colin Sharpe was his only real hope. The man was a bit eccentric, but that wasn't the most important issue. Colin had solid connections with the Guide Liberation people. During all the years Blair had spent staying out of the clutches of the GDP, Colin had never failed him. Colin would be able to help them stay out of sight.

That narrowed the options. He'd need to leave the car somewhere it wouldn't be found immediately that also wouldn't leave them stranded. Blair headed for the underground parking of the largest mall he could think of. From there, they could catch a bus downtown. Not exactly untraceable, but it would slow down the pursuit.

Molly hadn't said a word as he'd driven around, figuring out what to do. When he pulled into a parking space, she huddled in on herself.

"Where are we going?" she whispered.

"We're going to leave the car here, and take a bus downtown. I need to look some things up, and get in touch with some friends who can help."

"I didn't like the bus," she said shakily.

"I know, but I'll be there, and it won't be so bad. We don't have far to go." He toyed with the idea of slipping into one of the stores and buying her some clothes, but quickly rejected the idea. He didn't have that much cash on him, and using his bankcard would be like waving a red flag. He looked apprehensively around the car. He couldn't risk leaving a note, or anything that might overtly place Jim in a compromising position. 

At that moment, he wavered. The week had taken its toll. If Molly hadn't shown up, in another hour or two he'd be seeking out Jim, drawing strength from their bond. Already he felt tired and stretched thin. What was he thinking? Contemplating a prolonged separation when his barriers were already fragile was just plain stupid. He'd never make it.

Molly chose that moment to thread her fingers through his. If Blair Sandburg was short on options, Molly Kinnick had far fewer. He was the only thing standing between her and a GDP nightmare. Whatever it took, somehow, he'd manage.

He gathered their things and helped her from the car. His backpack was still in his office. He hoped Jim would recognize that as a signal that things were not as they seemed. He would take the laptop, but pulled the phone from his pocket. The cell phone, with Jim's number on the speed dial, was his security blanket. It represented salvation, immediate help in time of trouble. If he took it, he'd end up using it, drawing Jim into the whole mess. It would be unforgivable.

He left it on the seat. After a moment's thought, he picked it up, typed in a number and dialed. An obnoxious squawk, followed by, "Your call cannot be completed as dialed," followed. He shut off the phone, replaced it on the seat and locked the car.

"Did you get a wrong number?" Molly asked as the headed out into the daylight. "Do you need to try again?"

"Nah," he said, taking her arm. "I got exactly what I wanted."

&&&&&

Jim, with Kinnick right behind, took the familiar steps of Hargrove Hall two at a time and headed for Blair's office. They weren't even halfway there before both men could hear voices raised in anger. Jim held up, scanning the conversation before making his presence known.

"Trouble?" Kinnick asked in a low voice.

"GDP," Jim said grimly. "Stay here, and out of sight. If they don't know you're a relative of Molly's at this point, so much the better."

"If it concerns Molly, it concerns me," Kinnick said.

"They can prosecute you for concealing an empath, Kinnick," Jim snapped. "Since Price seems real cozy with these guys, it would be a quick way for them to put you under his direct control. Is that a good enough reason?"

"Damn. We'll do it your way." Kinnick stepped into an alcove off the main hall. "I'll wait here, where I can hear what's going on."

Jim left him and went on alone. He found Dr. Woodward arguing with two GDP officers, one of whom was a sentinel with a guide. Jim bristled immediately. He didn't appreciate having other sentinels around his guide under any circumstances. "What's going on here, Dr. Woodward?" he asked. He made no effort to conceal his aggressive mood. Better these GDP drones know where they stood right from the start.

"These - gentlemen - are demanding to question Mr. Sandburg," Dr Woodward replied angrily. "Blair isn't here, and I object to them going through his office without his permission."

Jim glared at the GDP officers. By protocol, they should make the first move. He had no intention of making their job any easier.

"Sentinel Prime Ellison," the senior officer said formally. "I'm Captain Gates, this is Lieutenant Robertson and his guide. We need to speak with Sandburg and inspect his office."

"Under whose authority do you approach my guide without speaking with me first?" Jim asked coldly. "As for searching his office, do you have a warrant from a law enforcement agency?"

"He's a guide, Sentinel Ellison. We can..."

"He's a member of the Rainier University staff," Woodward said sharply, interrupting. "This is University property. Get a warrant, or please leave immediately."

"I couldn't agree more," Jim added. He took a step closer, purposely crowding Gates. "Next time you want my guide for anything, you contact me first. I'll be referring this episode to Commander Slater." He turned his back to them, hoping they wouldn't miss the insult. "Dr. Woodward, allow me to escort you back to your office."

Luckily, Woodward played along. Jim needed to speak with him, and wanted to have the conversation in private. They left the GDP fuming outside Sandburg's office. Kinnick was waiting down the hall. He was full of questions, but Jim signaled for silence, gesturing in the direction of the GDP. The three men climbed the stairs in silence.

Jim was certain he remembered where Woodward's office was, and the sharp left turn in the opposite direction took him by surprise. He gave the older man a questioning look.

Woodward came to a halt. "Can we speak freely yet?"

Jim hesitated. The GDP personnel seemed to be leaving. They hadn't been followed as they climbed the stairs. "I think we're okay," he said.

"Good." Woodward offered his hand to Kinnick. "I'm Robert Woodward. I'm Mr. Sandburg's advisor." He started walking, motioning Jim to follow. "I assume you know Blair if you're with Detective Ellison. Blair had an appointment with Dr. Clancy. I had no intention of mentioning it in front of the storm troopers. Hopefully, he's still there. His office is just down this hallway, around the corner."

"Have you seen Blair today, Professor?" Jim asked.

"Actually, I spent some time with him this morning. I'm rather concerned, Detective. I'd like to speak with you later, if you have the time. I've proposed some changes to Blair to lighten his work load, and you may have better luck convincing him than I do." He would have continued, but at that moment, he nearly ran into another man going the opposite direction at top speed.

"Oh, excuse me! Robert! I was just coming to see you about Blair..."

"What about him?" Jim interrupted sharply.

Woodward stepped in to smooth things over. "Dr. Clancy, this is Detective Ellison, Blair's sentinel, and Mr. Kinnick. Actually, we were hoping Blair was with you."

Clancy looked stricken. "Oh, no. Something must have happened. I spoke to him a short time ago. He was supposed to be on his way up. He was just going to gather his things. He never showed. As I told you, he looked out of sorts in class, and I'm terribly worried about him. Could he have fallen ill? Collapsed in his office or something?"

Jim was already moving, dragging Kinnick with him. "I'm going back to Blair's office, Dr Woodward."

Clancy stared at the retreating pair. "So that's Blair's sentinel. Quite the intimidating man, I must say. What about Blair, Robert? What do you think has happened?"

Woodward started to walk down the hallway, following Ellison. "That's exactly what I want to know," he said, speaking over his shoulder. "I'm going to catch up with them. If I find out anything, I'll call you. If you see him..."

"Of course, I'll call."

Clancy headed back to his office, muttering under his breath. "That poor young man. I hope they find him."

&&&&&

He put Molly by the window, shielding her from the other passengers as much as possible. She held his hand tightly. By the time they hopped off the bus, she was trembling.

Blair headed for the main branch of the Cascade Library. It was the one place he could think of that would be open for several hours and wouldn't have too many people for Molly. It also had the advantage of public phones, which he desperately needed at the moment. Using his old driver's license, the one that had no markings identifying one Blair Sandburg as a guide, he sweet talked one of the librarians into reserving a reading room on the first floor.

He sighed in relief, closing the door tightly. "Okay, Molly," he said gently. "No more running around. How about that snack we were planning on?"

She nodded, her eyes wide. Just getting her away from people seemed to help quite a bit. "Are we going to stay here?"

"For a little while. Just long enough for me to find us a more permanent spot." He handed her half of the chocolate. He needed her calm before he could leave and make some arrangements. "Now don't tell me you hate chocolate," he said, smiling sweetly. "Every pretty girl I've ever known likes chocolate." 

After a few minutes of conversation, Molly's eyes began to droop. Blair pulled the big upholstered chairs away from the table and put them near each other. Shoved together, they were almost as long as a small couch. "Come on," he coaxed. "Put your feet up and lie down for a moment. No one will come in and bother you." He stroked her forehead, pushing back a few locks of dark hair.

"Are you going to call Paul?" she asked. He voice was dreamy. She was drifting off. "Paul's so smart. He'll know what to do." She yawned. "He always knows."

He stayed by her, sitting on the floor, until she was completely asleep. How was he going to explain that her anchor, Paul, was the last person he was going to call? Nor was he going to call Jim, no matter how much he desperately wanted to.

The public phones were on the first floor. Blair dialed Colin's unlisted number, hoping the man would be there and choose to answer a call coming from an unknown number. If Colin didn't come through, they were sunk.

&&&&&

Jim turned slowly, scanning the office. "They were here," he said. He wrapped his hand around the mugs sitting on Sandburg's desk, first one, then the other. "The tea is still warm." He ran a hand along the cushions of the battered sofa. "I can just catch Molly's scent. The fabric is a shade warmer than room temperature. They must have sat here for a while."

"Then where are they?" Kinnick asked, his voice rising in panic. 

"If I were going to make a guess, Blair saw the GDP coming and made a run for it." He was lost in thought when Kinnick grabbed him roughly by the lapels of his jacket.

"That bastard guide stole her! If he hurts her, I'm holding you responsible."

Jim shoved him away, breaking his hold easily. It took every ounce of restraint he had not to deck the man. Kinnick seemed to have no sense of what he'd just done. You didn't generally manhandle a sentinel and escape unscathed.

"Blair wouldn't hurt Molly," Jim snapped back. "Think about it. He's trying to keep her safe."

"You don't know that!" Kinnick shouted. "I don't care what you say. He's like every other empath, a deviant, a menace to normal people."

Jim gritted his teeth in anger. Kinnick was reacting out of fear, but it was still hard to take. "Blair knows plenty about being hunted by the GDP," he said coldly. "If he'd really planned this and had time, he would have covered better with Dr. Clancy. Right now, he's the only thing keeping Molly out of detention and the Correction Facility. Do you have any idea what they'd do to her? You should be thanking him, not making stupid accusations."

"Excuse me, Detective. What is this all about?"

They both whirled to face the new voice. It was Dr. Woodward.

"I'm sorry, Professor," Jim said. "It involves an active case. I can't discuss it."

"Well, you were just discussing it at full volume." Woodward closed the door to the office. "If this is confidential, be glad I was the only one standing in the hallway." He looked at both men sternly. "Besides, those GDP idiots are tramping around my department for a reason, and I deserve the opportunity to be prepared for them. Who's Molly, why does the GDP want her, and how does all this involve my Teaching Fellow?"

Both Kinnick and Jim looked at each other, a little nonplussed. "For someone who just walked into the room, you sure picked up a lot of information," Kinnick said dryly.

"Chalk it up to a lifetime of managing unruly undergraduates," Woodward said sternly. "Now start talking. Detective Ellison knows my discretion. Maybe I can help."

"Tell him, Ellison," Kinnick said. "At this point, what can it hurt?" 

Without discussing the reasons for Kinnick being under the protection of the Cascade PD, Jim outlined what had happened. Woodward listened carefully, with only an occasional question. "I have a suggestion. Do you think Blair would have taken his car?"

Jim considered that. "His car is easy to trace, and he knows it. Assuming he saw the GDP coming, he'd take it to get off campus quick, even if he left it behind later."

"Then you may be in luck. There's some kind of traffic survey being done. Student government is lobbying to have more parking available for students. Blair's car is distinctive enough to be noticed. Would that be a help?"

"Possibly," Jim said. "I'll call Campus Security." 

While Jim was busy, Woodward pulled Kinnick aside. "Tell me about your niece, Mr. Kinnick. She must have been screened for empathy during childhood. It's standard these days. Be honest. Were you using drugs to protect her?"

Kinnick shook his head emphatically. "Absolutely not. She was screened. There was never any indication that she was an empath. None whatsoever. We had nothing to hide, because there was nothing to hide."

"It's possible she could be a latent. Some people manifest the talent later in life. However, I'm sure Blair would have recognized that. According to Detective Ellison, he indicated early on that Molly was somehow different." Woodward paused, taking a moment to think. "Tell me about her, her personality and behavior."

Kinnick seemed taken aback, but answered. "She's shy, very sweet, very thoughtful of others. Michael, my brother, said he hardly ever disciplined her. Just a scolding was more than enough."

"And lately? Any changes?"

Kinnick frowned. "She had a very difficult time when Michael died. What girl wouldn't? She lost her mother young. Michael was the center of her universe. She just never seemed to bounce back."

"How long ago was that?"

"Less than a year ago," Kinnick said. He faltered a moment. "Forgive me. Molly isn't the only one who misses Michael. I stayed with her, but I expected it to be a short term thing. After she graduated from high school, I really expected her to go off to college, live in the dorm, do all the things girls do at that age."

"Why didn't she?" Woodward asked.

"I don't really know. She went to summer orientation, stayed in the dorm, registered, all the usual stuff. I had a sense that something hadn't gone well, but she never said. About a week later, I came into her room, and her trunk was unpacked. She didn't want to discuss it. I didn't want to push her. She'd get terribly upset."

"Seems odd," Woodward commented. "At her age, my daughters could hardly wait to spread their wings without good old mom and dad. What else?"

"She just seemed to be spending more time alone. She's always been sensitive. Lately, like I said, things seemed to upset her. She'd get very agitated over the smallest things. She has friends, but she'll skip parties she's invited to, then turn around and go shopping or to a movie with the same friend. She spends a lot of time with me." He shrugged. "I just thought it was grief over Michael's death."

"Would you say the two of you are close?" Woodward asked.

Kinnick shrugged. "Well, yes, unexpectedly so. When Michael died, and I moved into the house to take care of her, I felt like I'd be some kind of like a supervisor until she was old enough to be on her own. You know, take care of the house, manage the housekeeper, that sort of thing. Not really a parent, if you know what I mean. Molly - I can't explain it - she was just so loving. She wasn't distant or aloof like teenagers are supposed to be. We ended up doing almost everything together. It's rather daunting, if that makes any sense."

"To a parent, yes it does. It does sound a bit unusual. More like a younger child than a teenage girl on the verge of adulthood."

Kinnick looked troubled. "Funny you should say that. I always thought Molly was immature, but she really isn't."

"More childlike than childish, perhaps?" Woodward asked.

Kinnick's mouth gaped open. "Exactly. I've never been able to articulate it quite that way. There was so much to do after Michael died, I didn't take time to think about it. She isn't a baby, and she's not selfish or egocentric. She seems very happy. She doesn't shut anyone out. She just doesn't venture off on her own anymore. Lately, anything new seems to overwhelm her."

Jim chose that moment to interrupt them. "Blair drove off campus with a female passenger. Let's go. Dr. Woodward, do you have a key? Could you lock up?"

"Of course. Go, go," he said. "I'll take care of everything."

The two men left. Woodward carefully straightened Blair's papers and turned off the lights. As he turned the key in the lock, his mind was already racing ahead, considering the strange case of Molly Kinnick.

&&&&&

"Molly? Wake up. That's a girl, open your eyes."

Molly sat up, a little bleary eyed. At first, she didn't recognize the voice, or the room. Then she remembered. She was at the library, with Blair.

"Hey, sleepy. We're going for a walk." Blair was waiting for her at the door, extending his hand. She took his arm.

"Where are we going?" she asked. 

"Just a little way from here. I need to meet a friend, and then we're going somewhere to hang out for awhile, just until I figure things out."

"You didn't call Paul?"

"He and Jim are really busy right now. Besides, don't you think we can manage this on our own? You're feeling better, aren't you?"

"Oh, lots. I guess I was just tired." They walked into one of the downtown parks. She really did feel better. Being with Blair was like being with Paul. She wasn't scared a bit when either of them were around. They sat on one of the benches, while Blair watched the people passing by intently. "Are we waiting for someone?" she asked.

Blair smiled. He had the nicest smile. "As a matter of fact, we are, and there he is right now. You stay here, okay?"

Blair and the other man talked for awhile. They seemed like old friends. Blair accepted an envelope, and came back. The other man disappeared immediately.

"Who was that?" she asked.

"Oh, his name's Colin. He's loaned us a key to a place we can stay. One more bus trip and then we can stay put."

Molly frowned. "Do we have to? The people on the bus, they give me a headache."

"Just one more time," Blair said. "That's a promise. You can hold my hand, if that makes it better."

"Okay, just for you." She punched him playfully in the arm, and curled her elbow in his.

&&&&&

Ruberto Lazar slammed his hand onto his desk. "Find him, do you hear me!" he raged. "No more excuses!"

His associates filed out of the study. There'd been no sight of Paul Kinnick since he'd disappeared earlier. The house was empty. His car had been found, returned to the estate and ripped apart down to the chassis. 

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Ruberto ran his hands through his thick salt and pepper hair. He couldn't even measure what Paul might have taken. He had access to an appalling number of secrets. If this was betrayal, it was total.

The phone rang and he snatched up the receiver. He said nothing, simply listened. His eyes narrowed and he set the phone down again, very gently. 

So Kinnick had been seen, at the Cascade Police Department, in the company of none other than Detective James Ellison. What a charming coincidence. Lazar considered the possibilities. Kinnick was dealing with the police, turning state's evidence if the computer issues were any indication. An assassination was possible, but what he really wanted was to scuttle the deal, stop the further flow of information. Killing Kinnick would be only partially effective. He could kill any time. What he really needed was to get Paul to recant, at least temporarily. 

Kinnick had no one he was close to, except Molly. Maybe Kinnick didn't like the idea of marrying off his charge. Kinnick would be protected, but Molly might be more accessible. If that didn't work, there was always Ellison. Ellison was a sentinel, which meant he had a guide. Sentinels were almost impossible to subvert, but once, many years ago, he'd used a guide with interesting results. 

A malicious smile crossed his face. There were always possibilities to exploit if you had the wit to use them. If he couldn't get to Kinnick immediately, then it was time to learn a little more about Ellison and anyone close to him.

&&&&&

"Where is he, Jim?"

"Captain, if I knew, don't you think I'd be there?"

Simon leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes. "What a hell of a mess. Do we know for sure they are together?"

"Not officially. The GDP found Blair's car at the Empire Mall, in the parking garage. We crashed the party, so to speak."

"And?" Simon asked curtly.

"The report will state that there was no obvious physical evidence to indicate that Molly Kinnick was in Blair's car. There were fibers from some kind of a silk scarf that were in both Blair's office and the Corvair. Paul says Molly didn't have a scarf that color." Jim and Kinnick exchanged glances.

"Okay, so tell me the rest."

"I suspect if anyone took the time, they might find out that Molly purchased some clothing when she was shopping with her girlfriend. The GDP hasn't thought of it, and if anyone asks me, I don't consider it an important lead. Blair has plenty of female friends who might be in his office and car. The GDP and Price can run their own witch-hunt. We're continuing the search for Molly as a vulnerable protected witness.

"After talking to Pais, Major Crime's official position is that Price's heavy handed approach scared her and she fled, no more, no less. How long can we keep Sandburg's name out of it?"

"I don't know," Jim answered. "I butted heads briefly with the GDP personnel who located the car. I just shrugged off their questions and told them Blair had permission to shop alone whenever he wanted, and I have no concerns about his whereabouts. It's not really any of their business, but if we don't find them soon, I'm sure they'll push it."

"Dear God. We'll have the whole mob down here. Amy Jensen will jump at the chance to get her claws into Sandburg. We already know what she's capable of."

"What's going on here, Ellison?" Kinnick asked. "If there's something wrong with your guide, I don't want Molly mixed up with it. If he's the one who brought the GDP on her, I'll kill him."

Simon left his chair as quickly as Jim did. He flung himself between the two men. "Jim! Don't! He didn't mean that. You know he didn't." Banks turned to Kinnick, who had inched back in his chair. He didn't look like he quite understood what he'd done. "Kinnick, we know you're worried about Molly, but you don't threaten a sentinel's guide. A sentinel will only excuse so much. Lazar will be the least of your worries." The looming presence of an irate sentinel seemed to emphasize the message. Kinnick mumbled an apology.

"Sit down, Jim." Simon waited until Jim slowly lowered himself into his seat. "This department doesn't subscribe to the GDP nonsense that guides are chattel. Ellison and Sandburg haven't been bonded that long, and there are people who object to a guide living his own life. They've made crazy accusations in the past without any basis in fact because they have an agenda."

"There's nothing wrong with my guide," Jim said in a low, threatening voice. "The GDP doesn't like guides with minds of their own. Right now, Blair's independent streak is all that's keeping Molly out of the Correction Facility."

"Okay, Ellison. I don't get the whole guide thing, but you've been straight with me. Tell me truthfully, can we find them? For all we know, Lazar might be hunting for them, too. He has plenty of informants." Kinnick saw Simon's alarmed look. "Yeah, he's got plenty of eyes and ears in the Cascade PD." He shook his head. "If he had someone in Major Crime, I wouldn't have come to you in the first place. Your department is one of the few that he can't tap into."

"I hate to speculate on that," Simon muttered. "Back to the issue at hand, what do you think, Jim? Do you have any idea where Blair would go?"

"I'm pretty sure he left on the bus. Blair's been paying attention. The car's easy to trace. I have people we trust out asking questions, but once they were downtown, they could go almost anywhere."

"What about his cell?"

"He left it in the car. Blair's too smart to use a traceable phone. It may be significant that Colin Sharpe has suddenly dropped out of sight."

"Of course," Simon said. "Our Sandburg is a couple steps ahead of us."

"Who's Colin Sharpe?" Kinnick asked.

"An old friend of Sandburg's. He has ties to the Guide Liberation people. Before Blair was identified as an empath, Colin helped him keep clear of the GDP. Unless I've completely misread the situation, Blair's secured a place to keep Molly out of sight."

"The GLA?" Kinnick asked fearfully. "Aren't they a bunch of crazies? They wouldn't take Molly, would they?"

"Sandburg doesn't believe the GLA crap, either, but he needs a place to hole up. He'll use what he has to use."

"Well, obviously, we need to find them before anyone else does. Keep at it. I'll provide any resources you need."

"Yes, sir." Jim waited to follow Kinnick out the door. Simon caught him before he left. "How long, Jim?"

"As soon as someone with a brain realizes Blair abandoned his cell phone. It was logged in evidence and I claimed it. So far, no one's put two and two together." He pulled the phone out of his pocket. "When they ask that question, then I won't be able to answer. A guide without direct communication to his sentinel, unsupervised, location unknown? You know how they'll call it, Simon."

"They'll call him a rogue. Again."

Jim nodded grimly.

&&&&&

The apartment was ice cold when they got there. Blair set down the groceries they'd picked up on the rickety kitchen table and clicked up the thermostat. Molly was standing in the entry, holding her leather bag. She looked like a lost waif despite the expensive clothes.

"Why don't you change into your other clothes, Molly? It was cold walking over here. That sarong is pretty, but it doesn't look very warm." She didn't move, and Blair pointed toward the doorway of the small bathroom. Wordlessly, she finally moved and shut the door behind her.

Blair checked the apartment quickly. Colin had been right on again. It wasn't much, but then the GLA didn't have a lot of money to throw around. A tiny television and a radio sat on a packing crate at one end of the room. There was no phone, but there was an internet hookup. The laptop would work just fine.

He was just starting to warm up a can of soup when it happened, a wave of exhaustion that nearly sent him to the floor. Blair grabbed the kitchen counter with both hands, trying to stay on his feet. He forced himself to relax, riding it out. It would pass. Just hold on, relax, like a cork on the wave.

Slowly, his barriers firmed. Blair took a few deep breaths and finished opening the can of soup. What he wouldn't give for a little of Jim's shielding right now. Stabilizing Molly had taken more out of him than he bargained for. 

The bus ride over had been a trial. He still couldn't completely isolate what was going on. At the library, being around Molly hadn't been a drain. The walk to the park was fine. Once they got on the bus, it was another matter entirely. As more people boarded, and the crowd pressed close, Molly seemed to shrink in on herself. If her emotions had been a smooth pond earlier, the bus experience whipped the waters into a foamy froth. A hissed argument between the couple seated in front of him had her shaking. 

It was weird. The park had been busy, the streets downtown had be crowded, and neither of those settings had been difficult. Molly's emotional signature wasn't following any pattern Blair knew of. One thing at a time, he told himself. Warm the place up, get something to eat. Molly was tired. If he could get her to sleep, he could get on the computer and search for a solution.

Solution? What was he thinking? What in world was going to satisfy the GDP once they had their minds made up? To them, any flicker of empathy meant guide material. He hated to think how Molly would react to the standard section 8 involuntary empathic testing. She possessed nothing that resembled natural shielding. They'd crush her just taking the baseline measurements.

He heard Molly come out of the bathroom. She was smiling for the first time since they'd boarded the downtown bus. It was really amazing how she responded to the absence of other people. The normal crush of urban life seemed too much for her, but in smaller settings, her personality just sparkled.

"Can I help?" she asked. "I don't cook much, but I'll try."

"Why don't you look for some plates and bowls?" Blair suggested. "Then we can cut up the rolls. I'm seriously considering hogging all those cookies you picked out."

"Who said I was going to share?" she said laughing. "This is just like being at home with Paul," she added with a contented sigh.

There it was, his lead in. Gently, artfully, Blair began to ask her about her life. Somewhere he would find the answer. He had to.

&&&&&

 

Dr. Clancy walked down the quiet hallway, his footfalls echoing. There were no night classes in this part of Hargrove Hall, and the faculty offices were pretty deserted at this hour. He was usually the last to leave, and tonight seemed to be no exception. Since losing his wife to cancer, it was easier to work in his office than to go home to a lonely, empty house. The thud of a book, or maybe a stack of books, falling to the floor caught his attention. Either someone was breaking into the Anthro Department Office, or someone was still working. His curiosity sent him searching.

The door to Woodward's office was open. He could hear Robert, talking to himself. Clancy chuckled at his old friend. Whenever Robert really got caught up in something, he'd always been like this. Even knowing what to expect, Clancy was still surprised. Books and papers were scattered all over the floor. File drawers hung open. The whole office was a wreck. "Robert, what in God's name are you doing?" he asked.

"Damn old age. I can't find it," Woodward said, from the middle of the chaos. "I know exactly what I need, I know it's here and I can't find it."

"You always were a lousy filer," Clancy said with a laugh, leaning against the doorframe. "If you didn't have a secretary, the whole department would fall apart," he teased.

"Oh, shut up and make yourself useful." 

Clancy set down his briefcase. He nearly laughed out loud watching his equally elderly colleague crawling around this sea of papers on his hands and knees. He crouched down. "Okay. Just what am I looking for?"

Woodward rocked back on his heels, scanning the room. "It's a set of handwritten notes, six or seven pages, on yellow legal paper. Blue ink, if I recall correctly."

"Robert, half of these papers are handwritten, and your writing is about as legible as Sanskrit. Give me a hint. What's it about?"

"Empathy," Woodward said, digging through more papers. "I've started a literature survey on empathy, and these were notes from a personal journal - couple hundred years old - the date escapes me now. I need them."

Clancy shook his head. "Excuse me, old friend, but why not just get the book back?"

"Because I damn near snuck it out of the Sentinel Section to begin with, and if those GDP idiots figure out what I want it for, I wouldn't put it past them to destroy it. Damn it, why can't I find it!"

"Robert, look at me," Clancy said sternly. "I'll help you hunt through every scrap in this room, but you tell me what this is all about right now. Why do you need this thing in the middle of the night?"

Woodward looked pained. "It's Blair. Oh, God, Clancy, it's such a mess, and this is supposed to be confidential, but I need the help, and you'd be the only one I'd trust. The GDP wants to detain some young woman named Molly as a potential guide. I don't know the whole story, but apparently, she came here, the GDP arrived, and Blair took her into hiding. Not even his sentinel knows where he is."

"And now our dear Sandburg is in trouble. They'll say he's gone rogue again, which we both know was bogus in the first place. Why can't they leave that boy in peace?" Clancy asked. "All right, so where do you come in? Why the mad hunt?"

"Think the way Blair does. She has some sort of ability, but Blair told Sentinel Ellison she was definitely not a true empath. Under the circumstances, what would he do?"

Clancy answered without hesitation. "Gather evidence. Prove his case, convince the GDP they're barking up the wrong tree. So you think that's what he's done?"

"I think that's exactly what he'd try to do. I've learned a lot about the GDP and their methods over the last few months. This Molly would go into the Correction Facility. I think he's just trying to buy some time, hoping to find an answer to put them off."

"Right," Clancy agreed. "Sounds like Sandburg, but it's one hell of a price he'll pay. Ooookay - yellow paper, six pages. I'll start over here. You need to get the coffee started, you old buzzard." He grinned at Woodward. The name-calling was as old as their friendship. Over the years, only the terms of endearment had changed.

Woodward looked up and smiled, waggling his eyebrows. "Just like old times, you geezer. Keep looking."

&&&&&

Jim closed his eyes. If this didn't stop soon, he was going to lose it. The conference room was too small, the voices too loud. It was such a disaster. 

Jim had been confident his guide had contacted Colin Sharpe, and that would give them a place to look. They had a trace on the man's phone. He'd never told Blair about the trace, afraid he would consider it a betrayal of Colin. Blair considered him a loyal friend. Blair had called him, all right. Problem was, Blair called from a very public, very busy pay phone, as if he'd known the phone was monitored. Colin was nowhere to be found. The call was a dead end.

Simon was furious. Price was furious. Commander Slater was furious. Apparently, every GDP official west of the Mississippi was furious. It seemed like every single one of them had marched in and out of this small room, yelling at the top of their collective lungs. They wanted Sentinel Ellison to produce his guide, and Jim's feigned nonchalance had run out about two hours ago. They were finally asking questions Jim couldn't answer.

Jim could do nothing about the detention order issued for Molly. He'd barely been able to convince them to delay issuing an order for an all-out, public search for Blair as a rogue guide. Every hour Blair stayed out of sight increased the chance the order would be given. Blair's image would be on every television and newspaper in the city. When they caught him, and they would catch him, a stint in the Correction Facility would be a certainty. 

It was not just the inevitable punishment that Jim feared. Blair wasn't naïve. He knew the consequences. The punishment would be swift, sure and brutal. There would be no way for Jim to shield him, or blunt the punishment. Even if Blair survived the correction, they'd never be able to negotiate any level of freedom a second time. Blair's career at the University would be over. It wouldn't stop there. The GDP officials in and out of Major Crime all night hadn't been shy about expressing their opinions. At the top of their list was Blair's unsuitability for the senior prime. They would certainly be separated while Blair was being disciplined. The powers-that-be might even insist on breaking their bond in a vain attempt to give Jim another guide.

Jim was near the point of despair, haunted by one nagging question. Blair, his guide, his trusted one, had deserted him. How many times had he reassured Blair that he'd always be there, that they could do anything together? Now, the objective evidence seemed to indicate the opposite. Blair hadn't told him about everything at Rainier. There had been no contact since he'd disappeared. Quite to the contrary, he'd made a conscious effort not to be found.

Blair had said the right things. He seemed happy, even eager to forge a new life as the guide of Jim Ellison. Jim couldn't bear the possibility that it had been all talk. Did Blair have some sort of wild escape plan, prepared in advance? Had his apparent devotion and gratitude all been an act? Even if he had planned to escape, Blair was a bonded guide now. His only future would include constant damper drugs, a life balancing on the edge of total breakdown. Was that really his chosen alternative to being the life guide of one Jim Ellison?

It just didn't make any sense. Or worse, maybe it did.

"Excuse me, Captain Banks. I need to see Sentinel Ellison immediately."

Jim jerked back to reality. He must have been drifting into a zone. Edwards was standing close by, ignoring the deadly looks Simon was throwing at him.

"Can't it wait, Edwards?" Simon snapped angrily.

"No, sir, it can't," Edwards answered, completely undaunted. Commander Slater looked to be on the point of intervention when Edwards added, "It's a sentinel matter, sir. A clan issue." 

Jim hid his shock. Edwards might just as well have told the others to take a hike, or worse. Knowing Edwards, he could probably have expressed the same thought more poetically. It wasn't politic, to say the least. Simon wouldn't take it well.

Edwards opened the door for Jim. "We'll only be a minute. Excuse us."

Jim stumbled slightly getting out of his chair. He wondered what Edwards was playing at, but he didn't feel up to taking him to task. It surprised him when he realized Edwards had him by the elbow, steadying him.

"Easy going, Jim," Edwards whispered. "Stay with me." 

They ducked into one of the interrogation rooms. David was waiting for them with a very worried expression on his face. Jim slumped into the chair Edwards pulled out for him. David went gracefully to his knees beside his chair, head lowered, with his hands clasped behind his back. 

"What's going on?" Jim asked. "David, get off your knees."

"Jim, you're in trouble, and we're losing you," Edwards said firmly. "Every sentinel in the clan can feel it."

"Stay out of this," Jim said sharply. "This is not your concern. You're overstepping your bounds." He started to rise, and Edwards pushed him back down.

"You were on the edge of a zone-out when I pulled you out of there. You're a dark sentinel, Jim. If it goes too far, I don't think anyone other than Blair would be able to help, and Blair's not here. I want you to let David surface bond, to bleed off some of the emotion. They've been pounding away at you ever since you got back. If we get a lead, we need you on-line, not teetering on the edge."

"Blair is my guide," Jim said, as if that settled the entire issue.

"Yes, he is. And I'm your second-in-command where the clan is concerned, and your friend. So is David."

"Please, Sentinel," David whispered. He lowered himself into the extreme position, forehead to the floor.

"Don't do that," Jim said. The words caught in his throat. Everything about that position horrified him. He hated that position, hated everything it stood for. 

David ignored him and stayed where he was. "I am here to serve," David said softly.

"I mean it, Edwards, get him up," Jim said, choking on the emotion of the moment. "That position is an abomination, along with the leash and all that other GDP crap. Get him up, or I'm out of here."

David's head came up, and he sat back on his heels. His face was serene. "Blair would want it this way," he said. "He would understand anything I had to do to keep you or my own sentinel safe. He would do it for me, if there were a need." 

There was no doubting David's sincerity. Jim could hardly get the words out. "Sentinel Edwards, please bring your guide to his feet." When David was standing, Jim nodded and closed his eyes. "You have my permission. Proceed." 

&&&&&

Blair tapped away at the keyboard. He'd sent Molly to bed, and she'd dropped off quickly, as he had expected. The first few hours had gone well. The building was mostly deserted. Few people were around, which meant there was a lower assault on his barriers. Oddly enough, Molly didn't seem to be a problem. Instead of the turmoil he'd read in her earlier, now there was only contentment and calm. Her presence was almost a help. It was strange, and somehow, he was sure, important. He just couldn't get the pieces to fit together.

The internet wasn't really the way to do this, but it was the only option he had. The city library, any library, was out of the question. By now, he was sure they'd be hunting him. Blair Sandburg, the rogue again. He didn't want to think about Jim. Would Jim ever forgive him? What right did he have to guide the Senior Sentinel Prime of Cascade?

Blair forced himself back to his research. His conversations with Molly had given him a place to start. He thought a possible answer was taking shape, if he could just get to it. He was having a terrible time concentrating. He needed a printer to keep track of things, and obviously one wasn't going to appear out of nowhere. He kept mistyping his search requests. His hands were shaking too violently to hold them steady. 

His barriers were crashing. He was running out of time. Both he and Molly were running out of time.

He dug down deep, calling on all of his reserves. He couldn't call Jim; it wasn't an option. He'd left the cell phone in the car for that very reason. He'd been afraid that if he kept it, this moment would arrive, and the temptation would be too great. He couldn't do that to Jim, and he'd anticipated correctly. Right now, he'd do almost anything to have Jim by his side. He wanted to cry out, call for him, certain that he'd appear and surround him in bonding.

It was getting hard to breathe. He needed to focus and fight. He couldn't lose it now.

"Blair? Blair, what's wrong?"

It was Molly, her brown eyes huge and sparkling with tears. She'd slipped to the floor, facing him, her hands on his knees. "What's wrong? You're so sad, it hurts you." She pushed the laptop away. "How do we make it stop? You're shaking."

She disappeared, returning with a blanket. Blair could feel it drape around his shoulders, but couldn't see it. Everything seemed dim and gray. Molly was talking to him, holding his hands, pleading with him to tell her what to do. He couldn't form an answer.

"Jiiiim...." 

Dimly, as if from a great distance, he could hear Molly's voice, but it was just too hard. Too hard.

&&&&&

 

"What time is it?"

"Clancy, I hate to tell you this, but you have a very unhealthy attitude toward time."

"Sure. We can just keep going here, two old men groping around on the hardwood. When they find us dead on the floor tomorrow, it could look pretty racy."

Woodward cracked up. "Don't start. I'm tired, and if you get me laughing, I'll never stop."

"Well, let's at least take a break," Clancy insisted. "Pour me another cup of that God-awful liquid you pretend is coffee. At least we'll be caffeine alert when we expire."

"You old goat. You'll never die. We'll both be bronzed and put out to decorate the steps of Hargrove." Woodward filled both mugs and took a sip. "You're right - this is awful coffee. Tomorrow, I'm getting a new machine and some designer blend or something."

"Where are we? Can we pull this off without 'The Notes'?"

They sat down, sharing the stack of documents and reports they'd gathered. "So what's the most significant trait associated with empathy? In any culture?" Woodward asked.

"To interpret and project emotions," Clancy answered automatically, frowning as he read. "Every source says that, back as far as you can go."

"And what does the GDP say? According to them, it's a package deal, you get the ability to receive and project together. You are either weak or strong in those abilities. Strong enough, you're a guide. Too weak, and they're interested in you as breeding stock."

Clancy fiddled with his glasses. "I shudder to think. So that's what the GDP says. The older stuff doesn't say that. Why not? Because it's a recent interpretation, and it fits their goals, that's why. You're either guide material or you aren't - no gray areas. They cast the net, and draw everyone in who remotely qualifies." He leaned his head back against the wall, looking at the ceiling. "So what's the older interpretation? Tell me again what the uncle said."

"The girl never had any sign of empathy during routine screening. She's described as sensitive, shy, favoring small group settings over large. Devoted and happy after forming an emotional attachment, almost childlike. The recent upheaval with her father's death made her more easily upset."

"Well, that describes a lot of people. Something had to be going on that made her seem different to Blair. I wonder what he meant when he said 'not empathic'. Any ideas?"

Woodward swirled the coffee in his cup. "Let's be hypothetical. What if she had one without the other?"

"What do you mean? It sounds to me like she was more aware of emotions than normal."

Woodward sat up straight. "That's it. What was our definition? Interpret and project emotion."

Clancy was staring at his old friend intensely. "Of course. What if it's a one way street for this girl? She receives the emotional input just fine, in fact, it may be overwhelming. She gets 'upset', as her family put it, because she can't process it. She can't project, and find her own balance."

"And if you can't project, you're worthless as a guide," Woodward chimed in. "That would explain it. An empath like Blair would sense the difference whether he could name it or not. Everything goes in, but nothing comes out. It would seem unbalanced."

"It would explain her behavior. Known situations she could adjust to over time. Rapid change, like her father's death, would be a challenge. Large groups would be too much. She'd gravitate to known individuals or small groups where the emotional results are predictable. Devoted to them because that's where she feels safe."

"That's what that book was describing, down to a tee. It would be the historical data to back up the hypothetical. We've got to find those notes."

"We've about torn this office apart, Robert. Could they be somewhere else? Could you have taken them home? You have been known to put things in strange places."

"I thought I had all that stuff together on my desk. I just discussed it with Blair this morning. I wanted his input when he had the time. I was going to be all organized when we finally arranged it."

Clancy leaned back in his chair with an odd look on his face. "Robert, you have a thousand things on your desk. You're allergic to filing cabinets. Think, what went out of this office today?"

"Let me see. Some budget paperwork. A grant proposal. I think I would have noticed something yellow stuck in with those."

"What about yesterday?"

"Yesterday? If I remember correctly, some correspondence to Administration - student counts and such. I sent out a draft of my paper to the printer. Some correspondence, but that was all single sheets. Oh, and I made a copy of my seminar notes for Blair."

"Your class notes?" Clancy asked, his voice rising. "The ones you always write on yellow legal pads?"

"Oh, my God!" Woodward began tearing through files. "Seminar, seminar, its got to be right here." Frantically he sifted through folder after folder on his desk. "Anthro 402, Culture and Religion, Seminar!" He held it up triumphantly. "Here they are!"

"Check inside the file, Robert. Are they there?" Clancy asked impatiently.

"No," Woodward said, looking up. "How odd. The copies are here, not the originals."

"Robert! Then you gave the originals to Blair, and what we've been looking for all night is probably sitting on the bottom of the stack he's got."

Woodward was already digging in his desk for the keys.

&&&&&

Slowly, Jim pulled back from the bond. David was a pale substitute for Blair, but he'd done well. Things seemed normal. He could at least concentrate. It hadn't been easy for David, either. Edwards had already pulled David into a tight embrace, reassuring and steadying him. 

"Is he all right?" Jim asked

"Yes," Edwards said, looking over the top of his guide's head. "Just tired."

"Thank you. Thank you both." Jim intended to leave them, allowing them the privacy to bond. David would need to rebuild his barriers.

"Don't go!" David called out. "Sentinel Ellison, please!"

"What's wrong, David?" Edwards was scanning him, running his hands across his back, searching for the cause of his guide's distress.

David met Jim's eyes head on, a brazen act for the guide of another sentinel. "Blair didn't leave you, sentinel. He protects you, as you protect him. Don't think that of him. It will all make sense when we find him."

Jim didn't have the heart to be angry. David hadn't meant to intrude, but even a surface bond opened many doors. "I understand," he said gently. The process begun by David's efforts seemed to come to completion. Jim's senses slid back into place. He let them float, reaching out, confirming his limits. He could hear the bustle of traffic below. Simon and Price were still arguing.

Jim froze. He was listening to the voice he least expected. "Edwards, come on! Molly is talking to Kinnick on the phone." Jim dashed from the room, with Edwards right behind.

&&&&&&

Tears streaked down Molly's face. Something was wrong with Blair. She'd been sitting with him, and he just seemed to drift away. He wouldn't answer her, and it seemed like he was barely breathing. Every few minutes he would shake violently, as if he were freezing cold. She disappeared into the tiny bedroom and returned with another blanket. 

Blair squirmed as she draped the blanket around him, but didn't open his eyes. Molly kept talking to him, holding his hands, pleading with him to tell her what to do. He didn't answer any of her questions. He tossed restlessly, and she saw his lips move. Whatever he said was so faint, she couldn't quite catch the words. He tried again, and she leaned close to hear.

"Jiiiim...." 

Blair was taken by another violent shudder. He was sad, so terribly sad and alone, as if his heart were breaking. He'd called for Jim. The guide must need the sentinel. 

She had to do something. Where could she go for help? She sat next to him, stroking his hand. This wasn't helping. He seemed to be getting worse. He'd been so kind. She couldn't allow him to be so sick, so sad.

She dumped the contents of the designer handbag on the floor. Praying the cell phone still had a charge left, she dialed one of the numbers she'd gotten from Paul.

&&&&&

Kinnick was gesturing wildly. "She doesn't know where she is," he said as Jim entered. "Blair's with her." Kinnick listened, holding the phone toward Jim, although it wasn't necessary. Jim could hear every word.

"Let me talk to her."

Paul shook his head. "I don't dare. She's scared to death."

"Ask her how they got there," Jim ordered.

Kinnick asked the question. After two tries, he relayed the answer. "Bus 42. She doesn't know the street."

Edwards was listening, too. "I'll get a map," he muttered and disappeared.

"How long were they on the bus?" Jim asked.

Edwards returned, flattening a full-size city map on the table in front of them. "She says twenty minutes," Jim said. "How far would they get? Is there a landmark she'd recognize?"

"Ask her if they went past the Arts Center," Edwards suggested.

Kinnick nodded. "Molly, listen. Remember when we went to see The Nutcracker with Michael? That's right. Did you go by that building?" He looked at Jim. "She says they did. Jim, she says something's wrong with Blair."

"David, come on," Edwards said. "Give us five minutes, Jim. I'll have transportation." He paused at the door and looked back at his fellow sentinel. "We don't need any company. I'll make sure Simon and the GDP are occupied. Go down the back."

"This isn't your problem," Jim protested. "You don't have to be involved."

"Concentrate on your guide," Edwards said firmly. "Keep her talking. We'll only have this one chance."

&&&&&

"What do you do with your grad students, Robert? Give them chaos lessons? This damn office is just as bad as yours."

The two men were standing in Blair's tiny office. It was hopelessly cluttered. Woodward was leaning over Blair's desk. "This is Blair's study design. When I came down here before, he had stacks of stuff. They must be around somewhere."

"Correction. They are around everywhere."

"Don't be a pessimist, Clancy. Start looking. It isn't as if we haven't had practice."

"That's true," Clancy said, looking exasperated with his colleague. "I'll look, but I'm disgusted with you both. When this is over, I'm going to call in professionals, do an intervention and introduce you both to alphabetical filing."

"Alphabetical," Woodward snorted. "How narrow. Then I get to pick the alphabet. Tagalog, or maybe Yoruba."

"Typical irreverence, Robert. Very typical. Here's his backpack. Should I look?"

Woodward nodded. "At this point, yes. I hate to invade his privacy, but if the GDP pushes this rogue nonsense, privacy will be the least of Blair's worries." He busied himself with the stack on a chair nearest the door.

"I see yellow," Clancy said. "Get over here. Take a look." He handed a sheaf of papers across the desk.

Woodward thumbed through the first few sheets and then broke into a triumphant smile.

&&&&&

Jim and Kinnick climbed into the back of an unmarked police van. "How did you pull this off, Edwards?" 

"High friends in low places," Edwards answered, making eye contact using the rear view mirror. David was sitting in the front seat with his sentinel. "You and Kinnick get out without notice?

"I think so," Jim said. "Simon and that idiot Price went out of Major Crime like their pants were on fire. What did you do?"

"Better you don't know," Edwards said evasively. "How's the conversation going? I know you've been listening."

"She doesn't sound so panicky. Kinnick tried to talk her into going outside and looking for a street sign, but that suggestion didn't get very far. She's trying to look out the window, but it's dark."

"So what are we going to do? David has the map."

Jim leaned forward to look over David's shoulder. "There are about fifteen blocks between the Performing Arts Center and where route forty-two ends and the bus heads back downtown. Molly said they walked about five blocks, and stopped at a grocery along the way. Unless she can give us more, that's where we are."

They were just passing the Performing Arts Center when Simon's angry voice crackled over the airwaves. "Edwards! Edwards? Is Ellison with you?" Jim's heart sank. Not only was he undoubtedly going to defy a direct order from a superior, but Edwards was going to be in just as deep as he was. Blair was his first priority, but he never expected anyone else to put their career at risk.

Before he could say a word, Edwards neatly ripped most of the communications gear out of the dash. He tossed a handful into the back seat with a shrug. "Oops. Didn't catch that, Captain. Could you retransmit?" He grinned wickedly at Jim's shocked expression. "You Army boys are sure sheltered. Selective communications are a boot camp thing in the Marines."

&&&&&

Price watched through the windows while Banks frantically tried to communicate with his AWOL sentinels. He was furious that Ellison had slipped away, but it was a small consolation that Banks was equally in the dark. At least Ellison made someone else crazy besides him. Why did he have all the miserable luck? Why couldn't Kinnick have picked someone else - anyone else - to make a deal with.

There had to be a reason for Ellison's sudden departure. Most likely, he knew where Sandburg was, and was hoping to avoid the inevitable. Well, WD Price had other ideas about that. He intended to aim for the whole package - Ellison in disgrace, Banks demoted out of his command, and Kinnick completely under his thumb.

At that moment, Sentinel Sayres stepped off the elevator. Several GDP personnel were with him. Price immediately recognized Captain Mason. The woman with him, he believed, was Dr. Amy Jensen. He'd met her some time ago, at a speaking engagement. She'd been quite complementary about his procedures with guides involved in the Justice system. He intercepted the group long before they got to the doors of Major Crime. Sayres handled the introductions. Price smiled broadly. Slater was no friend, but these were people he could talk to.

"Good to see you all," he said. "Actually, Captain Banks is a little preoccupied at the moment. Perhaps we could adjourn to one of the conference rooms and discuss our options."

"Actually, I was quite eager to see Sentinel Ellison," Dr. Jensen said. "If his guide is unavailable, he may be having difficulties."

"I'm not sure Ellison is available at the moment," Price said, ushering the others into the conference room.

"Where is he?" Dr. Jensen asked. "That would be very unwise. He should return to the station, where he can be fully monitored. I have suitable guides standing by, should they be necessary to assist Sentinel Ellison."

"I'm not sure Ellison is completely in control of his own faculties," Price commented. A little exaggeration never hurt anyone. "I have confidence that both the rogue and Miss Kinnick will be in custody shortly. I think it would be wise for us to consider that eventuality. We can be of greatest help to each other by presenting a unified front."

"Just exactly what do you have in mind?" Captain Mason asked.

"Simple physics, Captain, simple physics," Price replied. "Every action has an equal and opposite reaction, always simple and predictable.

&&&&&

"Grocery store, over there." David was pointing to a small convenience store just off the main drag. Edwards whipped around the corner and pulled to a stop.

Kinnick was quick. "Molly, was it a Stop 'n Save? There must have been a receipt. Look on the receipt." He looked at Ellison. "Why didn't I think of that before?" 

"I didn't think of it either," Jim said. He was looking anxiously down the dark street. Low rent apartment buildings lined the streets on both sides. Blair was in trouble and they didn't have time to search through all of them. 

"The receipt matches. Now what?"

"Tell her to look out the window, and we'll drive slowly." As an afterthought, he added, "Ask her if there's a television or a radio in the place. Tell her to tune it to the loudest thing she can find and turn it up full blast."

They inched slowly down the street. Three blocks down the heads of both sentinels snapped around, triangulating an odd stereo effect between the cell phone and one of the buildings. Immediately they were out of the vehicle, tracking like hounds on a scent.

&&&&&

"Mr. Lazar, I have some information for you."

Lazar glared and motioned the man forward. It was late, he was tired and angry. "You asked about Detective Ellison's guide. Ellison bonded fairly recently. The guide might be quite useful. He was a rogue. Ellison took him right out of the Correctional Facility."

Lazar's eyes gleamed. "A rogue? Hell, if they run once, they'll run again. We make him an offer of freedom, and he'll give us what we want."

"It's a little strange. You'd think with his history, Ellison would keep him under his thumb. He doesn't. He attends Rainier University. Teaches class, if you can figure that."

"If he runs around without Ellison, then we can get to him." Lazar considered the possibilities. "Where is this guide now?"

"Well, no one seems to know. We have someone watching Ellison's place, as you ordered. Our special source at the police department seems to think Ellison has left, and maybe took Kinnick with him. There seems to be some kind of uproar in Major Crime."

"Banks runs that show, doesn't he?" Lazar asked. He stared into the fire, thinking. He wanted Kinnick back. "Put one of our guys on Banks. He has a rep of being very hands on. If we don't know where Ellison is, maybe Banks will take us to him. Send someone to the University tomorrow and find out more about this guide. I may want to take him tomorrow. I want Kinnick, one way or another."

"Yes, sir. We understand. We won't let you down, Mr. Lazar." 

&&&&&

The two sentinels pounded up the narrow staircase, tracking the sound of the blaring television. The flimsy lock on the door gave way easily as they burst into the tiny rented apartment. Molly was huddled on the sofa next to a blanket covered lump. The sheer terror on her face vanished when she realized Kinnick was right behind these two very large, very intimidating men. She dashed toward him.

"Paul!" she cried. "You're here!" He surrounded her in a hug.

"I'll get the volume," Edwards said. 

David drew the two Kinnick's into the kitchen. "Sentinel Ellison needs to concentrate on Blair," he explained. "It's best if we don't distract him."

They watched from the kitchen. The two sentinels were speaking to each other, but their tones were so low it was impossible to hear their conversation. Jim was gently pulling the blanket away from Blair's clenched fingers.

Molly plucked at David's sleeve. "What's wrong with him? He was so sad, and then he acted like he was sick. He wouldn't talk to me, but he kept asking for Jim."

David tried to keep his voice down. "If I were going to make a guess, I'd say Blair's barriers are crashing. It can happen when a guide is away from his sentinel too long, or the ambient emotion becomes too intense."

"Is that my fault?" she asked.

"Of course it isn't your fault," Kinnick said quickly. "Blair was the one who ran away. It's his own doing."

Molly pulled away from him angrily. "How can you say that, Paul? He didn't run off. He left to take care of me. Those GDP people were right outside the door when we left." She looked at David. "What should I have done? Did I hurt him somehow?"

"No, you called his sentinel. That was the best thing." David chose to add nothing else.

"Can they make him better?" she asked tearfully.

"It can be very serious for a guide," David answered. "Let's move farther away. I'm sure the sentinels will know what to do."

&&&&&

"His vitals are low, Jim," Edwards said quietly. "He's in a bad way."

Jim didn't answer. He was totally focused on reaching his guide. The warm rush that usually signaled their bond was empty and cold. He pushed deeper. There was nothing.

"I can't reach him," Jim whispered.

"Try again," Edwards urged. "You know he's there. He'll come to you, if he can just sense your presence." He waited anxiously, monitoring Blair as well as Jim. If anything, Sandburg's breathing had faltered. He wasn't responding. Edwards slipped away and joined the Kinnick's and David in the kitchen.

"Molly, how long has he been like this?" he asked

"I'm not sure," she said, clinging to Kinnick's arm. "I went to sleep just after eight. Something woke me up, and I came out here. Blair wouldn't answer me. I sat with him for awhile and tried to keep him warm, because he was shivering. He asked for Jim, and I got worried and called Paul."

Edwards and David exchanged worried looks. A little simple arithmetic told them both that Blair's barriers had been probably been down for several hours at least. Edwards went back to Jim. "Any sign?" he asked. "Jim, I think he could have been crashing for a couple hours."

Jim shook his head. He'd pulled Blair close, trying to maximize physical contact. "All he had to do was come to me. I would have - I can't lose him now."

"Jim, we need to get him out of here, into a medical facility. I talked to the girl. Blair's strong, but it's been too long."

Jim looked at Edwards with alarm. "Blair had those drugs once. They were terrible."

"Please, Jim," Edwards pleaded. "I know you want to do this alone, keep him away from the GDP, but he's too deep."

Jim buried his face in Blair's hair. "They'll take him."

"I'll stand at the door with a missile launcher, if necessary. We need to go." 

Jim pulled Blair closer, and nodded reluctantly. 

Edwards sighed in relief. "I'll help you get him to the van. We need to hurry."

&&&&&

Banks came wearily out of his office. Edwards had finally answered his frantic calls. Sentinel or no, the man would have a lot to answer for when Simon finally got a hold of him. Edwards was evasive, but apparently he and Ellison were en-route to Cascade General. Without having any further details, Simon had to read between the lines. He would have to leave Blair's physical and mental condition to the sentinels. Even if he made an attempt, they would probably exclude him. It was a clan issue now. 

That left him with the rest of the mess. It was time for some serious damage control. He needed to find Slater. Presumably, if Blair were in medical danger, they could overrule any order to move him to the Correction Facility, but that would only be temporary. The real battle would be over keeping Blair, Molly and Paul Kinnick out of GDP control.

He looked around for Price. Damn that man. He'd been a menace all evening, and now he'd vanished. It was a relief to have him gone, but it immediately made Simon suspicious. Whatever he was doing, it wouldn't be to the benefit of Major Crime, Jim Ellison or Blair Sandburg. It was almost better to have the man underfoot than running around unattended. 

He ran into Slater, who was coming from the other direction. "Where are they?" Slater demanded. "I heard you had contact."

"I don't have any details. They're on their way to Cascade General, which doesn't sound good. I'd like to beat them over there, but Edwards wasn't very forthcoming about their location. I swear, I'll have that guy walking a beat when I get my hands on him."

"I sympathize," Slater said. "I was looking for Dr. Jenson. Headquarters notified me that she was coming with Captain Mason."

"I was looking for Price." Simon looked at Slater in consternation. "Those three don't know each other, do they? That bunch in one place would be like the perfect storm."

"They just might," Slater said. "I seem to remember Jensen commenting on an article Price wrote. He probably doesn't know Mason, but the man's a traditionalist. He and Price are birds of a feather. What do you want to do? Hunt them down together, split up, or go to the hospital?"

"Will they make a move to take Blair into custody?" Simon asked.

Slater scowled. "Blair's medical condition should take precedence, but they might try. The clan will draw around Ellison and Sandburg, so I'm not as concerned about their immediate future. I would expect a move against the Kinnick's first. They are the more vulnerable targets."

"Then I say we go to the hospital." Slater gave no other answer other than to pick up his coat and head for the door. 

&&&&

"How's he doing, Jim?" Edwards asked. It was difficult for him to drive at top speed, call Banks, and monitor his friends in the back seat.

"No change," Jim said softly. He looked despairingly at David, who was pressed close to Blair from the other side, trying to give support. None of their combined efforts had brought a response from Blair.

David sat up. Since he wasn't helping Blair, he would be of more help to his sentinel. "Mr. Kinnick, would you hand me the phone, please?" He leaned forward and placed a hand lightly on the back of his own sentinel's neck. "Shall I call Sentinel Dr. Harvey?"

"Good idea," Edwards said. "I think a show of clan solidarity would back the GDP off for the moment. Call her. Who's the best with guides at Cascade General, David?"

"Dr. Lambert would be my choice," David said. "In fact, I think Blair's been treated by him before." He looked quickly at Jim, not sure if he was following the conversation, or concentrating completely on Blair. He got a slight nod. "Jim agrees."

"Then call the hospital. Tell them it's the senior sentinel prime and guide prime for the city. That ought to get them moving. Here comes another corner - brace yourselves."

"Maybe a little slower, Sentinel Edwards?" Kinnick said. He and Molly were belted into the front seat to leave the back for the guides and Ellison. "It would be good to get there in one piece."

Edwards smirked. "Just be thankful it's me and not Ellison driving. Maybe it's a sentinel thing."

They were getting close to the hospital. "Sentinel Edwards, what about Molly? Should we just take off? Get out of the city?"

"I think you're better off with us, for the moment," Edwards said. "When David's finished, call a lawyer."

"All the lawyers I know work for Lazar," Kinnick pointed out.

"Well, don't call one of them," Edwards said emphatically. "I can't really suggest anyone. Police officers don't usually hang out with the lawyers." He screeched around another corner. "Don't you know anyone socially? Good God, man, you have money. Who do you play golf with?"

"Paul, what about Mr. Berman?" Molly asked. She'd been totally silent since leaving the apartment. "Remember him? He was Daddy's friend. He came to the funeral and called a couple of times. Isn't he a lawyer? I remember him joking about it with Daddy."

Kinnick gave her a quick hug. "Sure, I remember him. He'll be a place to start, even if it is the middle of the night." He gave her a searching look. "You okay?"

"N - no," she said, her voice cracking. Tears welled up in her eyes and Kinnick pulled her closer.

"Tell me what's wrong," he said.

"Like after Daddy died. Everything just pounds on me. It hurts. Make it go away."

Kinnick tightened his hold, knowing it didn't help. "I take it back, Edwards," he said. "Drive faster."

&&&&&

An anxious nurse stared through the glass doors of the Emergency Room of Cascade General. She was supposed to meet Dr. Lambert with these files, and the waiting made her nervous. Her supervisor had pulled her out of her regular duties with the strict instruction to do exactly what Dr. Lambert said at top speed. It was quite exciting, really. She hoped to get additional training to qualify as a GDP nurse, and Dr. Lambert was the best sentinel-guide doctor around. This could be a real boost to her career.

Her finger traced along the bright red border of the file. Guide files were bordered in red, sentinel files in blue. This one was red. She glanced out the windows. Still no sign of Dr. Lambert. This file had all kinds of special markings, some of which she'd never seen before, and they all screamed "Do Not Touch". Still, if this guide was going to be her patient for the shift, it couldn't hurt to look. It never hurt to be prepared.

She peeked into the file. Numerous hospital visits were listed. She frowned as she read further. Surely, someone must have made a mistake. This man was supposed to be the senior guide prime, but the early notations in his records were about treatment for sexual activity, along with the remnants of a tag only used on rogue guide files. Should she run back to Records and try to straighten it out? Dr. Lambert would be angry if he arrived and the proper medical files weren't available. Torn by indecision, she checked the parking lot again. She could see a man, silhouetted by the streetlights, running toward Emergency. It might be Dr. Lambert. She shut the file hastily, hoping he hadn't noticed her snooping.

He burst through the doors. His usual polite manner was missing. Afraid to speak, she held out the files. He snatched them away greedily. "Do we have an exam room ready?" he demanded.

"It's being prepared now, Doctor," she said hesitantly. 

"Well, get in there and double check everything. I want IV poles with saline and nutrients to start, and I don't want to wait even a moment." Lambert said, already skimming the file. He grabbed a prescription pad. "After you check the exam room, get down to pharmacy." He scribbled madly. "I need prepared syringes of these medications in duplicate. Tell them to have someone standing by in case I need more." He tore the slip from the pad. "When you've got that delivered, get up to the sentinel floor. Have them prepare a private room at the end of Wing C. Clear any other patients out. We'll need two rooms right next to it."

She stared at the pad, thoroughly confused. "Excuse me, Doctor, but shouldn't he go downstairs to the Guide area? And extra rooms? Is the sentinel also injured?"

"Don't be an idiot!" Lambert snapped. "I don't have time for this. The extra rooms are for the clan sentinels who will be in attendance. Dr. Harvey should be here any moment. Now go!"

Lambert started to walk away, but she stood there frozen. Dr. Lambert was usually the most calm, patient physician to work for. She'd dreamed, hoped, even prayed to be assigned to him, and here he was shouting at her. 

"I said 'go'! Hurry up! Or I'll get someone else!"

She crushed the prescription order in her hand and ran down the hallway.

&&&&&

The tires squealed as Edwards pulled to a stop in front of Emergency. He jerked open the door to the back seat and waited while Jim climbed out. Together, they eased Blair out of the car and into Jim's arms. The walk into the hospital was only a few steps, and the waiting gurney was ignored. Edwards knew the Senior Prime had no intention of releasing Blair from his hold. David ran ahead to hold the doors.

"Sentinel Ellison! This way, please." It was Dr. Lambert, standing at the door of the closest exam room. Sentinel Dr. Harvey was close by with her guide, Jon Windsor. Edwards sighed in relief. The reinforcements were beginning to arrive. There would be others. The GDP would have a hard time making a move against either Sandburg or Ellison on this night.

Ellison swept into the exam room. For the moment, their fates were in other hands. Now Edwards knew he could turn his attention to protecting the Kinnick's. Paul stood near the entrance, Molly half-hidden in his shadow. Edwards scanned the immediate vicinity. He could detect no other threats. He motioned them to follow, and selected the tiny exam room next to the one where Sandburg was now being treated. "Go inside and shut the door. Don't let anyone in. Keep trying for a lawyer, and we'll keep everyone else at bay."

For a brief moment, the hallway was empty. It was probably just the calm before the storm. Edwards dug a tiny key out of his breast pocket. "David, move the van to the parking area, and use this to open the locker in the back. I need you bring me the assault rifle and the Kevlar vests."

David stood motionless, with the key resting in his palm. What his sentinel was suggesting was unimaginable. Guides were strictly forbidden to so much as touch a service revolver. The punishment was severe. Fetching an assault rifle was as likely as handling a live rattlesnake. In all their years together, in the military, SWAT and now Major Crime, David had never even handled the ammunition.

"It's okay, David. I need to stand guard here. Do as I say." Edwards allowed a small smile to drift across his face. 

David recognized the look; he rarely saw it except following a particularly deep bonding. 

"You're sure, sentinel?" he asked.

"I'm sure," Edwards answered. "Hurry back, David. You are needed here, by my side."

David felt his sentinel's eyes boring through his back as he hurried outside on his errand.

&&&&&

Dr. Harvey deftly threaded in the IV. Jim looked up as she taped the tubes in place. Blair hadn't even responded to the needle stick. "It's just fluids and nutrition, Jim. Anything we can do to boost his reserves is important."

Jim turned back to Dr. Lambert. Monitors beeped in the background, even though they were turned low to avoid aggravating him. He didn't quite understand why they hadn't initiated treatment immediately, and he didn't like being separated physically, even though it was only a few feet. Lambert had insisted on questions and more questions while Dr. Harvey had gotten Blair into a gown and prepared.

"One last question, Jim," Lambert asked. "I know it's difficult, and very much an intrusion, but describe what you felt in the bond."

"That's the point," Jim said sharply. "There was nothing, not even a whisper. Like standing in an empty room and hearing your heart echo." He went to stand by Blair's bedside. "Why are we waiting?"

"Haste is an advantage when you understand the situation, and I'm not sure I do," Lambert answered. He stopped to study the monitors. "In a normal situation, barriers are lost and the guide withdraws due to overload. Any loss of consciousness is temporary. The guide enters a cycle of overload and reaction that eventually ends in insanity. The physical manifestations and death usually follow on a very slow pace." He didn't miss the pained expression on Ellison's face. "I'm sorry, Jim, I assumed you wanted me to be honest."

"I do. Please continue."

"In normal treatment, we would administer a stimulant, the quicker the better. The burst of activity brings the guide to a higher level and into contact with the sentinel's presence. It takes time to reestablish normal levels, and the drugs are harsh, but we're usually successful."

"He's had that treatment before. It is harsh, but it works. So why aren't you doing that?" Jim asked. "It's obvious my guide's in trouble."

"Because of the prolonged loss of consciousness. It's highly unusual." 

Jim frowned. "I don't follow. He's been under a lot of stress. His barriers have been shaky because he's been overdoing it. The last few days, he's been borderline by the time we got home and had the opportunity to bond."

"Jim, I've discussed this with you before," Dr. Harvey said softly.

"I know," Jim said impatiently. "The point is, we had a problem and took precautions. He was supposed to go to his office today and stay isolated, because we knew his barriers were weak. Now we've been separated past any reasonable limits, and I'm sure he's been supporting Molly. What's to understand?"

Lambert didn't answer. He and Harvey exchanged a long, silent gaze.

"Come on, both of you!" Jim finally demanded. "What's really going on? What are you hiding?"

"I'm not being evasive, Sentinel," Lambert said carefully. "I just suspect that something else is going on. Blair's a very unique guide. I'm not confident that his reaction to weakening barriers would follow the norm."

Jim shook his head. "But I can tell when his barriers are up. They're not there."

Lambert took a deep breath. "You said you felt an emptiness. What if he's retreated, pulled into a shell?"

"It's possible," Dr. Harvey said. "Like wrapping in a cocoon." Jim looked at her blankly. "Let me try to explain. A loss of barriers usually leaves the guide's pathways wide open. That's not what you're describing. Blair has such strength, he could have drawn his barriers in close, like erecting a final barrier. It would explain why you detect a void, and seem unable to connect with him.

"Even if he has, what difference would it make?" Jim asked impatiently.

"Because, if that's what's happening, I think we should do the opposite of the standard procedure. Instead of the stimulants, what Blair would need are damper drugs, something to lower this last ditch shielding he's put in place." Lambert's gaze never wavered. "Theoretically, the barrier would drop and he'd be aware of your presence."

"And if you've guessed wrong?" Jim asked pointedly.

"The damper drugs would overwhelm him. I doubt we'd get him back at all."

"You'd risk his life on a guess?" Jim asked. Anger sparkled in his eyes.

"No, Sentinel, you would," Lambert said evenly. "Any expertise I may have is of no help. You will have to choose."

Jim took one of his guide's lifeless hands in his own. "Isn't there a way to tell? Some test?" he asked quietly.

"No, I'm sorry, there isn't," Lambert said. "I believe Dr. Harvey will concur. We can't wait either. His vitals are getting more unstable."

"I need a moment," Jim said, his voice flat.

"Of, course," Lambert said. "We'll wait right outside. Please don't delay, Sentinel." With that, the two physicians swept out of the room.

 

&&&&&

"Seizure under Section Eight seems our strongest position," Dr. Jensen suggested. "Ellison can hardly maintain otherwise. He couldn't cover the fact that he had no knowledge of his guide's whereabouts. Sandburg deserted his sentinel and kept his whereabouts secret. Even if Ellison wishes to overlook such behavior, the GDP is not bound by his preferences."

"I don't see any reason not to include some options outside the GDP," Price said, looking up from the legal volumes spread on the table. "Since he took the girl, assisting an empath to elude the GDP works. If they wish to contest her status as an empath, a kidnapping charge is certainly possible. I can charge both Ellison and Kinnick under the civil codes for evading a legal GDP detention order. That will keep everyone busy." He gave Jensen a self-satisfied smile. "No matter what Banks thinks, he'll have to follow through on the arrest order and let the court rule. Kinnick won't have the guts to leave his sister in the Correction Facility while the court makes a ruling. He couldn't appear before a judge earlier than mid-morning. I'm sure you won't mind pointing out the finer points of GDP procedures that will be taking place during that length of time."

"We're not giving up the girl just so you can have your way with Paul Kinnick," Jensen said. "That won't work for us. We're not giving away the store just so you can cut your own deal."

Price broke into a full-fledged grin. "Not a problem, Dr. Jensen. That's the beauty of it. I can put anything in writing with Kinnick that I need. We just won't mention that in the case of an empath, certain proceedings like plea bargains are waived in favor of GDP warrants." He shook his head in mock disbelief. "Now, how could I have forgotten something like that?"

Jensen tilted her head, nodding in mock sympathy. "A terrible oversight, I'm sure."

"I'll get the clerical help busy," Price said. "Sometimes paperwork can be so satisfying."

&&&&&

"Edwards?" Lisa Pais called out from her vantage point. "Cigar alert. Captain Banks at two o'clock and closing."

Edwards shifted the bulky assault rifle so it pointed at the floor. He had no intention of budging, but he couldn't bring himself to deliberately aim the weapon at his commanding officer. "Step behind me, David," he said softly. "Our dear captain will be in a bit of a temper. No reason for you to get caught in the crossfire." David silently pressed close as the two men watched Banks and Commander Slater enter the Emergency Room. You didn't need to be an empath to read the anger in the captain's face.

"Edwards! Where are they?" Simon demanded the moment he crossed the threshold.

"Sandburg is unconscious and in treatment, sir. There's comfortable seating over there for you to wait." Edwards shifted the assault rifle up slightly, clearly barring the way to the narrow passage that led to the exam room. 

Simon didn't miss the gesture. "Stand down, Edwards. You've got some explaining to do."

"With all due respect, sir, this is now a clan matter. Access is limited to medical personnel approved by the senior prime. I will stand until Sentinel Ellison relieves me. I'm afraid issues you have with Sentinel Ellison or me will have to wait until the current crisis is over."

Simon lowered his cigar slowly. "Being a sentinel does not remove you from the chain of command, mister. Now, stand down."

"I refuse the order with regret, Captain," Edwards said calmly. "If you succeed in removing me, another will simply take my place." He shifted his gaze toward Commander Slater. "The senior primes of Cascade will be protected from all parties."

Slater didn't miss the point being made. Edwards couldn't have been more blunt if he'd posted a "GDP Go Home" banner on the wall. "The GDP respects clan authority but does not answer to it, Sentinel Edwards," Slater said. "Actions like these have serious repercussions. Think of your guide. Perhaps we can find some compromise position, one that keeps these violations from escalating further."

Edwards made no reply. A faint rustle of movement got Simon to look over his shoulder. During their confrontation with Edwards, at least five other sentinel and guide pairs had gathered close by. Some were under his command; some were not. Obviously, Ellison had called in the troops.

"Don't force this, Captain," Edwards said quietly. "This gives me no pleasure. If necessary, you can have my badge. The moment requires extremes. Time will be an asset to us all." 

Simon's eyes flicked toward the passageway. "Kinnick?" he asked.

Edwards shrugged and didn't answer.

"Alright, Edwards. We'll play it your way, for the moment." Simon withdrew and took a seat in the waiting area. Slater was already frantically placing a call to Dr. Claydove.

Outside, in the darkness, away from sentinel hearing, another call was also being made. The caller smiled, happy to make some points with his boss. It was always good to make Ruberto Lazar happy.

&&&&&

Paul Kinnick set the cell phone down on the tiny metal instrument table. The tinny sound rang out in the otherwise silent room. His best hope for legal assistance had promised to call in the next fifteen minutes. Why a high profile lawyer would be willing to talk with a total stranger about anything in the dead of night was beyond him. The lawyers he knew, the ones on Lazar's payroll, wouldn't have so much as put down a cocktail without making it a billable hour. Apparently, civil rights lawyers were cut from a different cloth. Another shift in his basic paradigms, he thought ruefully. Before this was over, the cops would be good guys, and lawyers the knights on white horses.

His gaze drifted to Molly. She was perched, cross-legged, on the exam table. He'd tried to get her to lie down and sleep. Instead, she'd wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and watched his every move. Every so often, she'd rub fretfully at her temples. He was sure she was exhausted and her head was still aching, but she never complained. Now that there was nothing to do but wait, he should do - something. He had no idea what.

"Hey," he said, trying to keep his tone bright. "I'm sure that one will call back."

"I know," Molly said. Her eyes dropped. "I'm so sorry, Paul. Maybe - maybe I should just go with them. Maybe they're right and I am an empath."

"Oh, no, honey. They're wrong. It's all a mistake." He grabbed her by the shoulders. "No one, not the GDP, not Ruberto, is going to take you away. I'll take care of everything, don't you worry."

"I know you'll try," she said softly. She shrugged her shoulders and took his hand. "I think it's time for me to start doing a little on my own, don't you?"

"Michael would have..." Paul started. She shook her head.

"Daddy knew something was different about me. He was just so strong, so awesome, when he told me not to worry, I believed him. So what if I didn't like being cooped up with strange people in one place? It didn't seem like a big deal." Molly pulled herself up straight, and said in a deep voice, "You don't like it, baby girl, you just walk out." She squeezed Paul's hand. "That's what he'd say. I was fine with my friends. It wasn't hard. He always told me, just have one anchor, that's all you need." Her voice cracked. "And then he died, and it doesn't work anymore."

"I didn't know," Paul said. "Why didn't he tell me? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I don't really get it," she said simply. "How do you explain the unexplainable?"

"Try," Paul said, hoping to keep the anxiety out of his voice. "I need to hear everything you have to tell me.

Molly leaned into him, but her voice was firm. "When I was with Mr. Sandburg today, I thought about this. When I was a little girl, we had the windows open at the house, and a storm came up. Just a summer storm, and Daddy ran out to cover the pool."

"Michael and his precious pool," Paul said with a smirk. "He had more fun with you in that damn pool."

"Yeah, we did," she said, smiling back. "I was in the house, and the wind was blowing the drapes out in big billows, and stuff was falling down, and I was too small to shut the windows. Can you imagine? That's what it's like now, after Daddy's gone. Things just roar through my head, and I can't shut the windows."

"Is it like that all the time?"

"Oh, no. On the bus, or when I went away for that college weekend, in the dorm with all those people, it was awful. You, Kayla, Mr. Sandburg - you're like a little spring breeze."

Paul finally understood. "But you still can't shut the window?" he asked.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "When Daddy left, the windows disappeared. I can't close anything."

"That's why you came home from college?"

"Yes," she said miserably.

"Oh, Sissy. Why didn't you tell me?" he asked again. He took her hand, but she wouldn't meet his eyes. "Is it that way all the time? Even with me?"

"You're like this big tree I can stand behind." She leaned her head on his shoulder. "Don't be sad. You've kept me safe, shelter from the storm. You've tried so hard." A tiny sob escaped and he hugged her close.

"We'll find a way," he said, rocking her gently. "Now that we know what to look for, we'll find a way."

&&&&&

The doctors were gone. It was just the two of them now. Jim closed his eyes and let the lub-dub of his guide's heart become the focus of his being. The soft swish of the heart muscle replaced all other sights and smells. Jim relaxed into that welcoming space, anticipating the warm pressure at the back of his brain, the signal that his guide had joined him. It never came.

"Where are you?" The words echoed in Jim's head. "Let me help... can you hear me?" Again the emptiness was his only answer.

Jim tried a second time, then a third and a fourth. He crawled on the bed next to Blair, avoiding the IV's and monitors, pouring everything he had into the effort. In that moment, he caught the fleeting image of a massive stone door, ancient and worn, sliding into place, its surface smooth and impregnable.

Slowly, Jim pushed himself away. The enormity of his choice crushed him. He could wrap himself around his guide and follow into oblivion, or they could fight. It was a fight they might not win. If they failed, Jim was certain their passing would not be painless. He leaned close to Blair's ear and whispered, "Don't give up, Chief. I'll be back."

Dr. Lambert and Sentinel Dr. Harvey rose as Jim appeared at the door. "It's time," he said. "You need to start the damper drugs."

 

&&&&&

Edwards shifted his stance ever so slightly. He was getting tired, but he had no intention of leaving his position. Had he requested it, one of the other sentinels would have taken his place, but he wouldn't have felt right about it. He felt David's hand tighten slightly on his elbow. 

What he wouldn't give to have some GDP idiot look David in the eye right now and start spouting some stupid theory about guide weakness and instability. David's performance over the last twenty-four hours should shame them all to silence. He'd supported and calmed during the first frantic hours after finding Sandburg, and stepped in blindly with the Kinnick girl because there was no one else. David hadn't faltered for even a moment. Edwards felt a surge of pride, answered by a grateful well of emotion from his silent guide.

The wee hours of the morning were slipping away, and still they had no word on Sandburg's condition. To Edwards' eye, the pale glow of false dawn was visible through the glass panes of Cascade General's Emergency Room. The only blessing was that other than Commander Slater, no representative of the GDP had shown up. 

"Sentinel Edwards?" He turned toward the calm voice of Sentinel Dr. Harvey. "With your approval, I'd like to bring everyone together." Edwards nodded. This didn't sound like good news.

Sentinel and guide pairs gathered quickly from their position scattered through the hospital. Dr. Harvey woke Captain Banks, who had finally drifted off into a restless sleep around three. Commander Slater stood at his shoulder as the group drew closer together in the center of the reception area, waiting for Dr. Harvey to begin.

"This is our current situation. I'm afraid Guide Prime Sandburg's condition is still very grave." Harvey allowed the moans of disappointment to move through their small group. "He has never regained consciousness. Most of you know first hand how unique Blair is. His empathic talents are exceptional. After consultation with Sentinel Ellison, Dr. Lambert and I began an IV course of damper drugs for Blair several hours ago."

The guides in the group gasped in horror. "Why?" David managed to ask. "His barriers were down. The dampers would lay him bare. How could you?"

"I understand your concern," Harvey said. "We came to the conclusion that Blair had erected a final barrier of protection. We hoped that administering a slowly increasing dose of damper drugs would allow Sentinel Ellison to reach him. I regret to say that this has not occurred." She waited a moment, knowing more questions would follow. "His heart seems to be failing. At Sentinel Ellison's request, we have removed the monitors and cleared the room."

"Isn't there anything else you can do?" Simon asked.

"No," Harvey answered firmly. "We knew that once we chose this method of treatment, there would be no turning back. Dr. Lambert has administered what we believe to be the final dose of the drugs. All we can do now is wait and hope. Success or failure now rests with guide and sentinel." She paused, grasping to maintain her composure. 

They stood in stunned silence. Dr. Harvey stared at the floor, unable to find any words to encourage them. Each one of them knew the awful reality. If Blair passed, Jim would follow him, by his own hand, if necessary. They could lose both senior primes before the dawn of the new day. 

Edwards was first to stir. "Sentinels, the watch is mine, until the senior prime returns." Ramrod straight, he returned to his position, David at his side. The other pairings melted away, as if the bad news had never been delivered. Dr. Harvey was left alone with Simon and Dan Slater. She read the questions in their eyes.

"This is our way," she explained. "Duty before despair. Excuse me, gentlemen."

&&&&&

He was dressed in the green scrubs of a surgeon. It had been no trouble to get through hospital security. When Ruberto Lazar wanted results, there was no stopping him. Lazar apparently had no difficulty arranging a cover, with all the appropriate identification. Officially, he was Dr. Tyler, visiting from eastern Washington. He was to observe with the intention of setting up a regional sentinel clinic. He had complete access to all departments, and more importantly, the computer system.

They were being very careful, but not careful enough. Sandburg's name wasn't logged as a patient, but it was easy enough to trace pharmacy orders. He knew the attending physician and the location of treatment. He actually knew quite a bit.

He'd taken two runs past Emergency. No subtlety there. The assault rifle posted at the door was a little over the top, but that was probably to make a point. No one was going to waltz past the sentinel at the door under any pretense, and the man had plenty of other backup. No - a frontal assault was out of the question. The real weakness, he'd decided, would come if they ever moved the guide into the main part of the hospital. No one was watching the area right now, and he'd taken the opportunity to make a few pertinent arrangements.

If the guide survived at all, his time would come.

&&&&&

The last of the drug dripped through, and Jim gently removed the IV. He waited for the moment he dreaded, when the last of the dose would flood Blair's system. His heart rate would slow again. Would it stop? Jim laid a hand in the center of Blair's chest, concentrating on each beat. It was slow, thready, but still there.

He rearranged the extra blankets and eased Blair onto his side. It didn't follow the GDP manual, but what about Blair did? The guide was supposed to lie face down, preferably looking away from the eyes of his sentinel, a fitting position for a tool. Blair had told him once that the most comforting bonding position for him was looking out the windows of the loft, surrounded by his sentinel's arms. Jim couldn't do much about the view, but he would do his best to let Blair know he was protected and cherished.

Jim toed off his shoes and climbed onto the narrow exam table. He tucked Blair's head under his chin, and wrapped his arms around, threading his own fingers with those of his guide. He pulled their clasped hands to rest above Blair's heart.

One by one, Jim focused each of his senses on his guide. His final conscious thoughts were urging his guide to come home.

&&&&&

"David?"

"Yes?" Edwards didn't have to look. He knew exactly where David was. The voice sounded a little sleepy, but alert.

"I thought I told you to rest."

"I did. Is something wrong?"

"I'm not sure. Something - nothing I can put my finger on. Like before a battle, when you can feel the anticipation."

"Our last battles were awhile ago," David said gently, stroking his sentinel's arm. They connected; the bond increased awareness.

"I don't know, David. Maybe only the players change, not the battles."

"Can you hear anything?" David asked, tightening his hold on Edwards' forearm. In all the long hours they had kept watch, it was the first time he'd felt the need to ask.

"I try not to listen. I wouldn't invade their bond." Edwards paused. "It's very quiet. That may not be a good sign."

"Then there's still hope. They'll come soon, won't they? The GDP, and Price?"

Edwards nodded. "Yes, but I don't expect them so soon, unless Price wants to wake up a judge. Judges don't like to wake up early. Don't worry. We'll be ready."

"Maybe you should have been a judge instead of a police officer. I like to sleep in," David teased. 

After a long night of tension, a bit of normalcy felt good. "Yeah. From SWAT to the bench. I'm sure I'd be their top candidate." Edwards stiffened. "Heads up. We have company." He was right. A young man in a pullover sweater ignored the medical stations and was heading straight for them.

"Excuse me, I was told to ask for Sentinel Edwards. You wouldn't happen to be him, would you? Nice gun, by the way."

Edwards looked the man up and down. Blonde hair, tanned, jeans, smart mouth - except for the leather briefcase, he looked like he was headed for a casual breakfast, if it hadn't been way too early for breakfast. His brain was too tired to deal with this. "Who are you?" he blurted out, skipping any other formalities.

The man looked unfazed. "I'm Paul Kinnick's lawyer. He told me to ask for you. You are Sentinel Edwards, aren't you? He described you to a tee. So, can you let me see my client before that jerk Price shows up?"

Edwards was suddenly very conscious of the fact that Simon Banks was waking up. Apparently, the words "Kinnick" and "Price" were enough to disturb his captain's meager nap. Not only was he going to have to deal with this - person - Banks was going to be all over him.

"You have some identification, sir?" Edwards asked, stalling for time. "David," he added quietly. 

"Got it," David answered. His guide slipped away. By the time Edwards made a show of examining the offered identification, a rumpled Paul Kinnick was standing behind him. 

"Thorne? Patrick Thorne?"

"That's me." The newcomer gave both of them a confident smile. "I assume you're Paul Kinnick?" Thorne said, stuffing his wallet back into his jeans.

Kinnick managed a nod. "Uh, oh," Kinnick said. He tapped Edwards on the arm. Banks was awake and bearing down on them. "Sorry to desert you, Edwards, but you've got the hardware." Lawyer and client beat a hasty retreat, and Edwards shifted his position to block any attempt to follow them.

"You've had him in there?" Simon growled. "This whole time, you've had them in there and you didn't tell me?"

"Yes, sir. I guess you'll have to add it to our list, sir," Edwards said. 

"What list? Has everyone in this department gone totally nuts?" Simon answered.

Edwards sighed. He felt terribly tired again, and his superior was absolutely correct to be furious. He was still trying to come up with an answer when, to his surprise, David slipped in front of him. "Excuse me, Captain Banks, but I think Sentinel Edwards means the list of stuff you'll be forgiving us for when this is all over." The expression on Simon's face was priceless. David didn't miss a beat. "Actually, sir, maybe we should send out for some coffee."

"Why don't I just have a breakfast catered in?" Simon snapped sarcastically, staring at David like he'd grown a second head.

"An excellent idea, Captain. Might I suggest an excellent bakery that's close?" David said, looking perfectly innocent as he spoke the words. Edwards could barely keep a straight face. It was the most assertive thing he'd ever seen David do. He didn't know what to make of it, but he kind of liked it.

Banks must have felt the same way. His shoulders sagged in resignation. "I don't believe this. Now I've got two of them. You've been spending too much time with Sandburg," he said ruefully. "I surrender. Do I have to order healthy, or will the sweet, gooey stuff be okay?" He shook a finger at Edwards, scowling. "Just because I'm ordering, don't think you're off the hook."

Slater was now awake and waiting for Simon with an amused grin. "Oh, don't you start," Simon said in an exasperated voice. "The tough guys I can handle. Arguing with a guide is like debating Gandhi. You can't win. We're going to get food. You drive."

&&&&&

Mmmmhhm.

His first semi-conscious thought was of warmth. Warmth and the security of the bond. Jim. No need to open his eyes. Jim was here.

He burrowed into those encircling arms. Jim was dressed. They must have fallen asleep on the couch.

He shifted again. Didn't feel like the couch. He was so tired, too tired to look around, but this really didn't feel like the couch.

One sleepy eye fluttered open. What? Toothpaste green. Not even Jim would paint the loft toothpaste green.

The view shifted and he was on his back, looking into two familiar blue eyes. Tear-filled eyes.

"Welcome home." Jim's voice, but it didn't make sense. They weren't home. Why was Jim upset? Blair couldn't shape the question. 

A single finger pressed on his lips. "Shhh. Don't try. Just rest. I'll be right back."

He tried to hold on, fingers digging into the cloth. Jim needed to stay. His fingers were clumsy. He couldn't tighten them, and the fabric pulled away. His eyes wouldn't focus.

His eyelids drifted shut. Far away, he could hear Jim's voice.

Other people were coming. He was wide open, but all he felt was joy. Why were they so happy?

So tired.

"Easy, Chief. Just a little ride, and then you can sleep."

Whatever. Jim was there, all around him, shielding him. So tired. So safe.

Blair slipped back into sleep.

&&&&&

Patrick Thorne looked around the room and tried to get the cast of characters straight in his head. After a few hours with Kinnick and company, he had a game plan. He loved a challenge, but this was a bit much, even for him. His source at the DA's office had given him the heads-up. Price was on his way, and this was the final shakedown. They'd adjourned to three rooms Dr. Lambert had arranged. All concerned were gathering to hear his outline of their plans. It was a little nerve-wracking. He mentally ran down the list of the primary players.

Edwards - sentinel, very big guy, very big gun, and their designated guard dog. Unless Price was bringing the Army, they had the advantage there. The only downside was the guy was really tired and really cranky.

Banks - bigger guy, Captain for Major Crime. Wanted Price away from his "people" and his "witness". Just a tad possessive. Currently held the jurisdiction unless we lose it. Note to self: don't lose jurisdiction.

Paul Kinnick - whoo hoo, his first mob client. Well, mob-turning-state's evidence. Close enough.

Molly Kinnick - Paul's niece, the babe-in-the-woods, his official reason for being here. She seemed like a sweet kid, if a bit dependent on Kinnick. She rarely strayed from his shadow. The GDP had lost their collective minds if they thought this innocent was a rogue. Thorne would have taken the case for her in a heartbeat.

Dr. Lambert - the ace in the hole. Sentinel expert, very well-known. Price wouldn't counter him with any kind of trumped up, expert testimony. Down side is he wanted everyone away from his patient, and as the lawyer, he needed his patient.

Then there was Commander Slater of the GDP, who would be a help, a bunch more sentinels and guides, and a few more inhabitants of Major Crime. It was all just a bit unmanageable.

And then the final two occupants to join them. Not that they'd been properly introduced, but it hardly mattered. As soon as the tall, silent man had steered the wheelchair through the door, his passenger was the center of attention. Definitely last, but not least, on the list.

Blair Sandburg - the other GDP target. Pale and shaky, even seated in the wheelchair. Took the girl to keep her away from the GDP, broke a few rules, got himself seriously messed up pulling off the rescue. From a purely selfish point of view, Sandburg would be a landmark case. Unfortunately, getting his sentinel to cooperate would be harder than setting precedent in case law. His immediate task was to break the Section Eight order for the bad boy guide prime of the city with a couple hours research - ought to be a cinch. Not.

Jim Ellison - the center of the web. Lead detective on Kinnick's case, the only one his client trusted. A strange alliance, that one. Worked for Major Crime, decorated Army veteran, connected to some of Cascade's wealthiest families and Senior Sentinel Prime for Cascade, just to make it interesting. Sentinel to Sandburg, making it even more interesting. Ready to eat anyone who presumed to come near his guide.

Self-review complete, Thorne called the group to order, tapping some medical thingy on a metal table. Every sentinel in the room flinched and glared at him. "Sorry," he said. "I'll be more careful."

"As you know, DA Price is on his way. My associate has filed several motions with Judge Fowler, requesting an immediate hearing on all detentions requested concerning this group. The judge has approved, but we may have to stall Price until the actual paperwork gets here. Sentinel Edwards, I guess you're in charge of the delaying action."

Edwards nodded. Talk about intimidating. Thorne briefly entertained the fantasy of having him skewer Price on a bayonet and kept going. "Captain Banks, I think you should make yourself scarce until our legal paperwork arrives. As soon as Price puts those detention orders, and whatever else he's thought up, in your hand, you have no choice but to execute them. He also can't overrule your jurisdiction without making some contact with you. Our best strategy is to make you unavailable."

"I need to be here with my people," Banks protested.

"You need to be where Price can't use you against us," Thorne countered.

"You can wait in my office," Dr. Lambert offered. "We can reach you by phone." Grumbling, Banks finally agreed.

"Okay, then," Thorne continued. "As soon as we notify Price, we need to get to the hearing with Judge Fowler. He's not expecting me. We'll have a temporary advantage and we'll need to use it. We'll need Paul and Molly, Sentinel Ellison and Guide Sandburg."

A chorus of protest broke out. Thorne waved his hands. "Hold it, hold it. One at a time."

"My patient is NOT leaving here," Dr. Lambert said emphatically.

"Why not?" Thorne asked. "Keep it in English, please."

"He's not strong enough. The damper drugs will keep his barriers suppressed for twenty-four hours, maybe more. He needs isolation, rest and monitoring."

"You'll put that in writing, Doctor? Or better yet, state that in court?"

"Of course. Sentinel Doctor Harvey will second the opinion."

"Okay, well, that should work. Procedurally, Sentinel Ellison would speak for his guide at the hearing, so we can leave Sandburg here while we go to court."

"No."

Thorne turned abruptly and stared at the tall sentinel who'd made the statement. Ellison was standing behind Sandburg's wheelchair, one arm wrapped protectively around the guide. "But you have to," Thorne sputtered.

"I said 'no'. Blair needs my shielding. I won't leave him, and he's in no condition to go with me. Dr. Lambert is the final word on that score."

This was real trouble. "Look, you don't understand," Thorne pleaded. "This has to take place before a judge. Otherwise, the GDP can say they have medical facilities suitable for his treatment and will execute the Section Eight. I can't stop that unless you stand before Judge Fowler and make your case."

"No. I won't place my guide at risk." Ellison looked away, as if he'd dismissed the matter completely.

Thorne looked around the room, desperately trying to figure out who would have some leverage with Ellison. He didn't know this group well enough. "We need an alternative, people. Speak up. We don't have much time."

"How long would Jim be gone?"

Sandburg. The last person Thorne expected to hear from. His voice sounded weak and tired, as if the effort to speak took his last ounce of energy. Thorne moved toward the wheelchair, and knelt down when he realized Sandburg would have to look up at him. 

"Counting travel time, three hours, maybe four. If necessary, we could request that Fowler hear Jim first and release him."

"Forget it, Chief," Ellison said firmly. "I won't be out of this room three minutes, much less three hours."

Sandburg seemed to ignore his sentinel. Thorne was mildly shocked. Ellison didn't strike him as highly tolerant of that type of behavior. Sandburg was definitely not the prototype guide. "Is it the best way?" Sandburg asked.

"For the moment," Thorne answered honestly. "I have more to work with in Molly's case. There are old empathic tests from her childhood, and a certain amount of conflicting opinion. For you, it's a direct challenge to the GDP's authority. We're on very shaky ground. Eventually, it will probably come down to you convincing Fowler that your actions didn't violate regulations. Even that act of taking direct testimony from a guide will require some legal leniency from the bench. Judge Fowler is willing. I don't think we'll have a better opportunity."

"So it's this or the correction facility, in your opinion?" Sandburg asked. 

"In my opinion, yes."

Sandburg closed his eyes for a moment. He took a deep breath before he spoke, as if marshalling his reserves. "Jim, I need you to protect me. You need to go."

"I am protecting you..."

"Listen to the man. I'm too tired to argue with you, Jim. David can stay with me, or Karl. They're our clan, and they know how to keep a guide grounded. Dr. Lambert can keep the room sealed."

"No. That's final." 

"Jim. Please."

"No."

Thorne watched, fascinated by the exchange. He'd been active in the campaign to secure empaths' rights for years, and he'd never seen anything like this.

"Yes. It's our most fundamental vow. Look at me, Jim." Thorne watched, mystified, as Ellison turned to follow Sandburg's insistent pull. "I've been an empath all my life. Fragile barriers are part of that life. If they had to, Lambert could sedate me until you come back. It's the GDP I'm really afraid of. They can hurt me, hurt us both. Please do this."

Sandburg's voice seemed to fade away as he struggled to get the last words out. He raised a feeble hand towards his Sentinel, which Ellison quickly grasped in both hands. "I'll need a moment," he said, looking directly at Thorne. "I need to get him settled before anyone arrives." He pulled gently at the wheelchair.

"Wait!" Sandburg's voice was low but urgent. "Thorne, don't take Molly. Leave her here, with the other guides."

"Why?" Thorne asked. "I've prepped her; she'll be very persuasive before Judge Fowler."

"It will be too much for her." Sandburg looked intently at the girl. "If she has problems, they can put the worst face on it."

"Guide Sandburg, are you telling she is an empath?" Thorne whispered.

Sandburg shook his head. "Not as the GDP understands it, but she's still vulnerable. If she displays that she's sensitive to ambient emotions, they'll insist she's guide material. I don't think you're ready to argue that point. We need more objective evidence. I think I can help you, but..." Sandburg's voice trailed off, and his head drooped. He rallied for a moment. "Check my laptop. It's in a file called 'Molly'."

Thorne wanted to ask more, but Ellison materialized between them. "He can't do this now." Without another word, he whisked Sandburg through the door.

Thorne wasn't sure how to proceed. In legal terms, presenting Molly Kinnick before the judge made sense. His courtroom instincts were screaming that the girl would do fine; that she'd find a sympathetic ear in Judge Fowler. He looked to Kinnick, who seemed equally confused.

Molly materialized from behind Paul. "I think I should stay. I - let's just say I trust Blair. Please look at Blair's laptop, Mr. Thorne. I brought it with me." 

Another one of the assembled guides stepped forward. "We'll take good care of her, Mr. Kinnick. My name is Karl. I met Molly at the safe house. We'll be fine."

They had no time for further discussion. "Heads up, everybody!" Edwards snapped. "Price is on his way up. I can hear him, two floors down, yelling at the elevator."

"Showtime, folks," Thorne said. 

&&&&&

Judge Fowler glared over her glasses. "Mr. Thorne, Mr. Price, I've never seen such a God-awful mess in all my life. Dr. Jensen, Sentinel Prime, Mr. Kinnick, I'd chew all of you out, too, but we just met. Well, we're all here, so let's make the best of it. I expect you to be brief. You each get two minutes. Mr. Price?" 

"Your Honor, these motions for dismissal are frivolous. GDP Senior Sentinel Sayre identified Miss Kinnick as a potential guide, hidden by her family, and therefore, a rogue. On that basis, the detention request is valid. Her place in society is clear. Guide training is required and should begin immediately. As for Sandburg, you will note his previous designation as a rogue." 

"Which was bogus to begin with," Jim snarled.

"Sentinel Ellison, your moment will come," Judge Fowler said crisply. "Continue, Mr. Price."

"We believe Guide Sandburg fled from Rainier University yesterday in an attempt to avoid being questioned by the GDP. That, in itself, is a huge violation. It goes without saying that not even his sentinel could locate him yesterday, and that he deliberately avoided contact with his sentinel. What other definition of a rogue do you need? A Section 8 evaluation, followed by reeducation is essential. We have the safety of the law abiding public to consider."

Jim's fingers tightened around the arms of the chair he was sitting in. He barely managed to stifle another outburst.

"Dr. Jensen?"

"I completely agree on both counts. Both Miss Kinnick and Mr. Sandburg attempted to flee. I've supplied you with copies of the numerous concerns we've had since Sentinel Ellison bonded with his current guide. You must understand that despite his outstanding achievements as a police officer, Sentinel Ellison had virtually no training in guide management and has actively resisted our attempts to assist him. We believe Guide Sandburg is ruthlessly exploiting his sentinel's charity and inexperience. Sandburg's flight clearly shows that our concerns were justified. Sentinel Ellison is simply not in a position to assess the crisis objectively."

"He looks clearly in possession of his faculties to me, Dr. Jensen," Judge Fowler commented, raising an eyebrow.

"Your Honor, Sentinel Ellison should not be held accountable for the situation. His bonding occurred quickly, in crisis. Guide Sandburg is highly intelligent and has simply manipulated the situation, taking advantage of a vulnerable sentinel. We have had these fears from the beginning." Jensen gave Jim a pitying look. "We truly have Sentinel Ellison's best interests at heart. With reeducation, it may be possible to reunite the bonding pair."

"Reunite!" Jim exploded, rising out of his chair. "No one's separating us!"

"Sentinel Ellison! Control yourself, or I'll have to send for security and have you removed," Judge Fowler said. There was no mistaking her tone. She meant it.

Thorne reached over and gripped Jim's forearm. Jim sighed and returned to his seat. "Excuse me, your Honor, but Blair is my guide, my chosen. No sentinel takes it lightly when their bond is threatened." Jim glared daggers at Dr. Jensen. "I trust you'll keep an open mind regarding the so-called facts Dr. Jensen is throwing around."

"So noted. Dr. Jensen, do you have anything to add?"

"Just additional documentation concerning Sandburg's history. You should keep in mind that he did everything possible to avoid having his empathy identified. When he was finally identified and legally taken to the Guide Training College, he resisted to the point that he was removed from standard training and sent for correction. His current behavior is regrettably consistent.

"Mr. Thorne, your turn."

"Thank you, Judge. First, concerning Miss Kinnick." Thorne handed an impressive looking folder across the desk. "I trust you'll forgive the haste in which this was prepared. My staff did their best on short notice. You'll find copies of all the empathic screening tests Miss Kinnick has taken. All were administered at the prescribed time and under objective conditions. As you can see, none of them identified empathic ability. At least two senior guides attached to Major Crime, as well as Sentinel Ellison, noted and described Miss Kinnick as having a highly unusual emotional signature. None of them read her as an empath, much less an empath with guide potential. Miss Kinnick was especially close to her stepfather, who died a short time ago. Her natural mother passed years ago, and she has no siblings. This is a recipe for emotional stress, not some miraculous conversion into a proto-guide."

Judge Fowler looked up from the documents she was examining. "Detention orders cannot be invalidated except under extraordinary circumstances. Why not allow the GDP to complete the detention order and do the appropriate testing?"

"Your Honor is well aware of the harsh treatment individuals are subjected to when incarcerated by the GDP. For a young girl to be so abruptly removed from her family, so soon after losing her father, amounts to cruel and unusual. In a few days, the psychological damage could be irreparable."

"Almost any unwilling family could make that argument, Mr. Thorne." 

"Most assuredly. That does not preclude us from considering the special circumstances concerning Miss Kinnick. I'd like Detective Ellison to provide some information at this time, and then discuss Mr. Sandburg."

"Agreed. What do you have to tell me, Sentinel Detective Ellison."

"Major Crime views both Mr. Kinnick and his niece, Molly Kinnick, as protected witnesses in a highly sensitive case. The action against both Miss Kinnick and my guide were motivated by Mr. Price's desire to apply greater pressure to Mr. Kinnick during negotiations."

"Now, just a minute..." Price burst out.

Judge Fowler silenced him with a wave of her hand. "That's quite an accusation, Detective."

"One that Captain Banks can confirm. Mr. Price wasn't even the prosecuting attorney assigned the case. His actions have been a blatant attempt to place himself in a favorable position. In the process, he's placed Mr. Kinnick, Miss Kinnick and the members of Major Crime in grave danger. Successfully bringing this case to trial would strike a huge blow to organized crime in this city. He's using an innocent girl as a pawn, and we're in danger of losing the entire case."

"Mr. Kinnick, do you have anything to add?"

"I agree with Detective Ellison and Mr. Thorne. Molly ran because she was terrified and upset. She's afraid of Price over there. That fine public servant spoke about my brother's death like he was a piece of meat, revealing details that I've taken care to shield Molly from. He was insensitive and cruel." Kinnick shook his head in disgust. "Your Honor, Molly didn't even know why they were looking for her. She just wanted to get away. She's no more a guide than I am. I'm willing to have her tested, but not under these conditions, and certainly not outside the protection of the team Detective Ellison has put together. Don't put her though this. She's suffered enough."

"And Mr. Sandburg?" Judge Fowler asked.

Thorne motioned to Jim, indicating he should answer the question. "All those files concerning my guide don't include anything resembling the truth. Here's the short version. While under the GDP's tender care Blair Sandburg was subjected to repeated sexual assault by his guards. It is my choice that he return to his former life as a graduate student at Rainier University. He's performed exceptionally in his guide duties and at the University. Despite his success, he has been repeatedly harassed by the GDP. The last few months have been filled with unjustified detentions, leashings, and interrogations. Dr. Jensen has missed no opportunity to interfere with our bond.

Blair Sandburg knows better than anyone the excesses the GDP is capable of. He and I discussed Molly's situation at length. When she appeared in his office, his only concern was to spare her injury. Blair wasn't trying to run off; we have downloads from his laptop that show he was researching information that might explain Molly's situation. He risked his life to help her. That doesn't sound like a rogue, no matter what the GDP alleges."

"That's all well and good, Detective, but it does not really address the issue at hand."

"If I may, your Honor?" Thorne interjected. "Sentinel Ellison not only allows, but encourages Guide Sandburg to work independently at the University. He drives his own transportation and functions during large portions of the day outside the direct supervision of Detective Ellison. The GDP may not approve, but it is the sentinel's decision, and his alone. Mr. Sandburg was not expected at the Police Department on the day in question, and it's of no particular note that he left the University. His activities on the afternoon in question do not constitute desertion of his sentinel."

"Detective, are you stating for the record that your guide was not willfully evading your supervision?" the judge asked pointedly.

"I am."

"That's an out and out lie," Price said hotly.

"Actually, it was a misunderstanding. Blair left me a perfectly clear message, and I overlooked it."

Judge Fowler gave him a questioning look. "That would put an entirely different spin on things. Could you elaborate?"

Jim shrugged. "Of course. We used Blair's car to take the Kinnick's into protective custody the previous evening. He feared that the vehicle would be identified, jeopardizing Molly's security. He left a message in the car, assuming I would find it, and I missed it."

"That's absolute nonsense," Price scoffed. "He even left his cell phone in the car, ensuring that Detective Ellison couldn't reach him."

"Exactly my point," Jim countered. "The last number typed into the phone was 257-965-7233. That's not a valid area code. As soon as I noticed, I realized what it was. The first three numbers correspond to BJS, Blair's initials. The last four numbers spell out the word 'SAFE'. If you'll allow me." Jim picked up a piece of paper, wrote the phone number, a series of letters, and handed it back to the judge.

257-965-7233

BJS-WMK-SAFE

"I see," Judge Fowler said thoughtfully. "And the middle letters?"

"W-M-K. With Molly Kinnick. All I had to do was look."

&&&&&

"Blair? Blair, you awake there?"

Blair reluctantly opened his eyes. "Hi, David. Is something wrong?" David's face was hovering near his. Blair could sense more than see Edwards nearby, still standing at the door.

"No. Something's right. Jim called from the courthouse. The judge ruled in our favor, for you and Molly both. The GDP can't come near either of you until after you've had a full hearing in front of the court."

Blair managed to stifle a yawn. Dr. Lambert had insisted on a sedative while his sentinel was away, and everything felt like it was in slow motion. "Jim?"

"There's some more legal mumbo jumbo to take care of, and he's upset he can't come right back. Dr. Lambert promised him you were doing fine. Captain Banks is with him. I didn't want you to wake up worried."

Blair fumbled for the control on the bed. Sitting up made him moderately more alert. He needed to concentrate, both on what David was saying and his own self-preservation. David was making an effort to keep a neutral emotional stance, but with his own barriers so flimsy, Blair could read every nuance.

"That's great, but if it involves anything with the legal system, it will take longer than he planned." Blair smiled at David, and gave a wave to Edwards, who was keeping a watchful stand by the door. "I owe both of you a huge thank you for what you did, and I'm sure I don't know the half of it."

"A story for another time," Edwards said. "You need rest. Shall I have David stay?"

Blair shifted to a more upright position. "Is the GDP really off our case?" he asked. Both men nodded. "Then don't get me wrong, but go home. You're both beat." He gestured toward the assault rifle still slung on Edwards' shoulder. "I hate to guess why you have that, but I bet it makes the hospital folks nervous."

"It's good for them to be nervous," Edwards said. His expression belied the gruff tone. "Keeps them from making some idiotic, careless mistake."

"Well, I'm sure you've made a lasting impression. Seriously, I'm fine. Go."

"As soon as Ellison comes back, we'll go," Edwards said. "The watch is mine," he added, as if that completely settled the issue.

Blair sighed. Damn sentinel logic. Jim would have reacted the same way, standing guard over a fellow clan sentinel or guide until he dropped, or until formally released from the responsibility. There was only one solution. "Hand me the phone, David, and dial Jim's cell number." He waved off David's protest. "I know you both too well. Even if it takes Jim all day, you'll stay here until you both crash. Now dial for me. If you don't, I'll have to wait until you're gone and do it myself."

"Stubborn Guide," Edwards muttered. Blair just smiled sweetly and took the phone. He couldn't get a word out before Jim's anxious voice drowned him out.

" _Chief? What's wrong?"_

"Jim, I'm fine. I just want you to send Edwards and David home. Will you do that for me? They're both beat."

__

"But I won't get there for hours at least."

"If the GDP isn't going to come in and snatch me, what's the harm? I really don't think I need a full time armed guard."

__

"I don't want you alone. If something happens, with your barriers down..."

"I have a whole hospital full of medical help. Besides, Karl and Lisa are still here somewhere, aren't they?" He gave David a questioning look.

"They're right next door," David said softly. "Molly was sleeping last time I checked."

"You heard that, Jim. No quit being overprotective and send them home." Blair yawned, unable to stop it. "Come on, Jim. Don't make me argue with you. I want to go back to sleep."

__

"Let me talk to Edwards. Close your eyes, Chief. I'll have him talk with Lambert before they go."

"Good." Blair waved weakly at Edwards and gestured to the phone. He snuggled down as soon as Edwards took it. He gratefully accepted David's help getting the bed adjusted and the covers arranged. He was asleep again before the two men tiptoed out and shut the door behind them.

******

Molly stretched and opened her eyes, not quite sure for a moment where she was. She flinched, coming fully awake when she realized she was being watched.

"These hospital beds aren't like home, are they?"

"No, they aren't," Molly said, pushing herself up to sit. "Hi, Karl." She rubbed her eyes. "How long have I been asleep? Were you here the whole time? I'm sorry. You must be bored to death."

"Not really. I enjoyed visiting with you before you drifted off, and I read for awhile." Karl held his paperback up and smiled. "We had good news while you were dozing. The court ruled in your favor."

Molly nodded. "I suppose we'll still have to go to a safe house or something. Will you be there?" she asked hesitantly.

"If it helps you. Do you want to talk about your gift some more?" 

"What gift?" Molly said, frowning.

"Your empathy. It is a gift, you know. It makes you special."

"But I don't want to be a guide," Molly blurted out. "I'm sorry. That must have sounded very cruel."

Karl pulled his chair closer. "I'm not offended. Being a guide definitely has its down side, but empathy is still a gift. Besides, I don't think you'll ever be a guide, from what you've told me."

"I'm just so confused," Molly said. "I can't figure anything out. How can I have empathy and never have it show up on those screening tests everyone has to take?" She sighed. "Everything changed so much when my dad died."

"It's not unusual for an empath growing up to be especially close to a certain family member. For most, it's their mother. It's an important part of maintaining barriers before fully coming on-line," Karl explained. "If your father was filling that role for you, his loss would be traumatic, whatever form your empathy may be taking."

"You make it all sound so normal."

"Molly, you have a very unique situation. I think it will make more sense when you're not trying to figure it out all on your own."

Molly moved off the bed she'd been curled up on and moved to one of the chairs intended for visitors. "Tell me about what it was like for you. You know, growing up and knowing about being an empath from the start. Maybe something will sound familiar, and things will start making sense." She gave Karl a worried look. "That's not too personal, is it?"

"Not at all. Guides have kind of a mutual support system, you know. Unofficially, you're one of us, under the protection of the Guide Prime of Cascade." He patted her arm encouragingly. "Let's see. The very first thing I remember? I think it was when my little brother was born. He's four years younger, and my dad took me to see him right after he was born. I remember feeling his presence, noticing another person for the first time."

Molly relaxed, soothed by the gentle sounds of Karl's narrative. He was a good storyteller, rather like Blair when she thought of it. "What do baby brothers think?" she asked with a smile.

"Oh, very good question. Well, they don't think in words, for one thing. Everything is in broad strokes - warm, cold, hungry, or color. I remember getting a bottle for him before he started to cry. My mother, who wasn't an empath but had a uncle who was a guide, realized the implication and had me tested." He patted her hand. "I know you're frightened. It was different for me. My mother explained it very gently after those first tests. I always knew I would be a guide, so it didn't hold a sense of terror for me."

"How could you even understand what it meant?" she asked. "You were so little. I can't even comprehend it, and I'm supposed to be an adult."

"I hope I can explain this. When my brother would cry, Mom would put him in my lap. I could send feelings to him and he'd stop fussing. That's what a guide does - read and send emotion. I couldn't have put it into words, but I knew even then what it meant to soothe a hurt, to heal. To be important to someone, and have them respond in turn. I grew up believing that was a good thing."

"Do you still see them? Your family, I mean?"

"Yes. Most sentinels allow some family contact. Lisa is better than most. My brother comes at least once a year."

"I can't imagine seeing Paul only once a year," Molly said.

"There you go, worrying over things that won't ever happen. Now that you're awake, how about we take a walk? There's a little balcony at the end of the hallway."

Molly nodded, and gratefully took his arm.

&&&&

His moment had arrived. Sandburg was alone.

So they thought he was safe. If they only knew.

The last sentinel was down at the end of the hall, with her guide. He wasn't positive, but he was certain the girl with them was Molly Kinnick. It would be a double bonus to snatch her, but too risky.

He stood at the bedside. The guide was already sedated, but he wanted no complications. He tapped the syringe, releasing the trapped air. Sandburg barely flinched when the delicate needle pierced his skin. Ah, yes. Pleasant dreams. If he only had the time. Guides with this particular combination could be highly - satisfying. He smiled. Lazar probably wouldn't object if he dallied with the bargaining chip.

It took only a moment to shift his unconscious victim to the waiting laundry bin. All his surreptitious planning was going to pay off. He'd be gone before they ever knew.

&&&&&

"Oh, no." Molly shivered, and her eyes filled with panic.

Lisa Pais was out of her chair immediately. They'd been on the small balcony, enjoying the fresh air and hot chocolate out of the vending machines. "What is it?"

"I don't know." Molly looked at Karl. "Can't you feel it?"

Karl shook his head. "Feel what?"

Molly's lower lip started to tremble. "Something - someone - wants to hurt." Tears welled in her eyes. "He - he's cruel, and he's happy about it." Her body jerked with a sob. "Make him stop. He's mean. Make him stop." Lisa bolted through the door, back into the hospital.

"Molly!" Karl said urgently, shaking her shoulders. "Molly! You stay here! Don't move! I need to go with Lisa."

She waved her hands frantically. "Make him stop... don't let him."

Karl was already gone. Molly huddled in the chair, arms wrapped around her knees as the tears spilled down her cheeks. She heard Sentinel Pais shout, then two sharp bangs, followed by a third. She screamed, pressing the heels of her hands against her temples, trying to stop the pain.

&&&&&

Invading armies were probably more subtle.

Simon took one look at the wide eyes of the nurse sitting at the main desk and knew he'd be doing plenty of damage control.

Ellison and Kinnick blew through the doors as one. Thorne was climbing out of the back seat of his sedan, looking a little shaky. Simon checked his watch. They'd made the drive from downtown in less than ten minutes. No wonder Thorne looked stressed; the ride must have been a Jim Ellison special. Simon held the door open for him.

"My God, Captain. Is he always like that?"

"When Sandburg's involved? Pretty much. I should have warned you to take a cab."

"Next time I will. How is he?"

"Sandburg's okay. The doctor's a bit upset. The drugs the guy injected were pretty powerful. They've got him back on the monitors, waiting for the crap to flush out of his system."

"I can't believe the GDP would do something so stupid."

"They didn't. We're pretty sure the guy was a Lazar hit man. Not that we'll be able to ask. Pais nailed him with a shot between the eyes."

They stepped into the elevator. Kinnick and Ellison had opted for the stairs and were way ahead of them. "Well, this case is turning out to be more exciting than my usual," Thorne said wryly. "Did I hear Sentinel Ellison correctly? Sentinel Pais was wounded?"

"Here's what I know. Pais, her guide, Karl, and Molly were on the balcony. Molly, somehow, knew something was wrong. Pais caught Lazar's man coming out of Sandburg's room, pushing a laundry cart. She ordered him to freeze, and he came up firing. Lisa took one through the shoulder before she brought him down. Damn fine shooting, considering she'd already been hit. She's in surgery, but she'll be fine."

"I assume the assault rifle will be back," Thorne quipped.

Simon shook his head. "Edwards is on his way. After this, I'm not going to argue the point, at least not until we figure out what is going on."

"Don't take offense, Captain, but how is Molly?"

"Distraught. I stayed with her, but I'm afraid it didn't help much. Dr. Lambert gave her a sedative. We've got her in the room next to Sandburg. They'll both be under twenty-four hour guard."

"So she is an empath. Not good for our case."

"I wouldn't jump to any conclusions. Lisa's guide, Karl, swears he had no inkling anything was wrong, and Molly obviously did. Whatever gift Molly has, it seems to function differently than our other empaths. Hang your hat on that."

"Thanks, Captain. Can you justify keeping them in protective custody?"

"Without a doubt. I'd say you've got at least a week before a judge will start pressuring us to make a change." They stepped off the elevator. Simon gestured down the hallway. Molly is in 612. We'll put Pais across the hall with Karl when she comes out of surgery. Sandburg's in 614."

"I'll check in with them. Then I'm going to the University. Sandburg had some promising research on his laptop that might help us."

"Talk to Dr. Woodward. He's Blair's supervisor. His number is on file with the department if you need it. Let me know when you take off. I'll be with Ellison."

Simon knocked softly and gently pushed the door open. Now that he was at his guide's side, Jim had lost the frantic look around the eyes. "How is he?"

"Stable." Jim had Blair's hands clasped in his own. "Better than I expected."

"I'm sorry, Jim. I should have thought."

"So should I. Lazar's desperate. Kinnick warned us. He said there were informants in the department. It wouldn't have been hard for someone to figure that Kinnick was my case. He needed to get to Kinnick, and we had him bottled up. What choice did Lazar have? What better way to pressure a sentinel than through the guide?" Jim closed his eyes, struggling with the emotions.

"Jim, you didn't do this. You didn't fail him."

"Sure doesn't feel that way, Simon. We need to get the Kinnick's to a safe house - a real safe house. I think we could have warrants issued in a few days. Kinnick brought out some incredible stuff."

"I agree. Any idea how soon Sandburg will be able to travel?"

"Tonight. Maybe tomorrow morning."

"I'll take care of everything. I'll make sure you and Blair can be housed nearby. I'm bringing extra personnel on in the meantime."

Jim nodded, completely focused on his guide. 

"Can you try to get some rest yourself?" Simon asked.

"I can't do the impossible, Simon. You want impossible, talk to Thorne. He seems to be on a roll today."

&&&&&

"I recognize this book," Blair said softly, stroking the edge of the crumbling leather binding. "I never thought I'd see it again. How did you ever stumble on it?"

"More to the point, young man, how did you ever get your hands on it in the first place?" Dr. Woodward asked with a smile.

"A complete total accident. What about you?" Blair looked up at Jim, who was just bringing in coffee for all of them, and smiled.

"I was prowling in the Special Collections in the Sentinel Section when I was looking for historical reports of empathy. It's pretty hard to deny access to a department chair. The GDP has so much material stashed in there I wonder if anyone really knows what they have. The real trick was spiriting it out a second time. I was afraid some reactionary in the GDP would destroy it."

"Had they known, they probably would have," Jim said grimly. "They're not above suppressing information they don't like. We have personal experience with that."

"After today, I'm confident Judge Fowler will repel any attempt to hide it from the public eye." Woodward accepted the book back from his student. "What a story. It ought to be on the best seller list."

"I like what you decided to call people like Molly. 'Sensitives' is a perfect way to describe people like her," Jim said. "We're grateful you appeared at the hearing, Doctor. Your testimony made all the difference. A prosecuting attorney couldn't have presented a better case. Judge Fowler was extremely impressed."

"Blair laid the groundwork. It was a remarkable piece of research under pressure, my boy. I've already contacted some very prominent journals. A redefinition of our assumptions about empathy is controversial enough to stimulate tremendous interest. You'll be listed as a co-author, of course."

Blair sputtered into his coffee. "But I was sitting in the safe house when the real work was being done. I'm grateful, but it doesn't seem right."

"Nonsense. Your field notes describing Molly's reactions, and how you were able to stabilize her were exceptional. Not every study occurs in a laboratory." He checked his watch. "Gentlemen, it's nearly time."

"I'll get the TV," Jim said, reaching for the remote. "I've got to admit, for a lawyer, Thorne's a good guy. When it comes to press conferences, he's a master." He sat next to Blair. After a moment's hesitation, he pulled his guide close. Dr. Woodward was a friend; they didn't need to maintain an artificial separation with him. He felt a surge of apprehension from Blair, but it eased as the younger man relaxed against him. Despite several days of enforced rest at the safe house, out of harm's way, he still tired easily. They listened intently as Thorne was introduced.

The three men went silent, listening eagerly to the interview. Thorne didn't disappoint. When the program ended thirty minutes later, Blair had tears sparkling in his eyes.

"He's not an empath, but he understands. If it keeps even one person from being wrongly identified and processed, it was all worth it." He paused and leaned into Jim's shoulder. "I still worry about Molly, you know? I hardly knew her, and I can't keep from thinking about her."

"Molly will be fine," Dr. Woodward said. "The psychologist from the University says she's made major strides already. Without the fear of being snatched off to be a guide, she'll develop her talent. As you suspected, a strong grounding relationship allows her to control the input she gets. It's been just a short time, but she's already learning how to supply her own shielding. She may always need a few close relationships to anchor her, but she'll be loved and valued for her compassion." Dr. Woodward stood. "Blair, you're tired. Thank you for your hospitality, Jim, but I'd like you to send my Teaching Fellow to bed. I'll be going." Jim rose to retrieve his coat. "You remember what I said, Blair. Your classes are covered through next Monday. I'll send the drafts over for you to read."

"So soon?" Blair asked.

"Well, of course. I'm going back to my office right now," Woodward said with a laugh as he disappeared down the hallway, whistling.

"Is he serious?" Jim asked, shutting the door. "It's after eleven right now."

"I keep telling you, Jim. Anthropologists do their best work after midnight. You just don't believe me." 

"You're all crazy. In this house, the anthropologist gets overruled for tonight. You're going to bed. Your advisor agrees."

"Yes, Mom," Blair said, but his mischievous smile faded. "Do you really think the protection order for Molly will hold?"

"After this, I don't think anyone will dare touch her. Best of all, the GDP won't be able to avoid open scrutiny of their methods. Even the big networks picked up Thorne's interview. Pretty hard to put that genie back in the bottle."

"I wish I had your confidence."

"Each little step forward helps, Chief," Jim said. "You're the one who's suffered. I have the luxury of being optimistic." He returned to his previous seat, and pulled his guide close. "I know it's hard to believe, after everything that's happened. We'll get there, I promise. Hope still lives."

The End  
  
---


End file.
